


Castles in the Sand

by punkish



Category: Late Night Host RPF, Stephen Colbert - Fandom, Strangers With Candy RPF, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, First Day of School, Highschool AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kissing, Past Abuse, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Swearing, Teacher AU, Teacher!Stephen, TeacherXTeacher, Young!Stephen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkish/pseuds/punkish
Summary: Lana Woods is an anxiety prone English teacher just trying to make it through life, preferably alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

I had always been a loner. Reaching out to others was not my forte, and on the occasions I had I'd found the vulnerability that followed.. uncomfortable. When you make connections with people they expect things from you. Openness, communication, trust. That was a lot for me to give, so I avoided the whole damn mess and just kept to myself.

The problem with loneliness was the lack of outlet for anything that I felt. Having no one to turn to meant everything became internalized. My successes and failures, joy, suffering. Every tumultuous life event joined the others in that little disheveled box I kept inside, even as it threatened to burst at the seams.

I was home in my shitty studio apartment, made shittier by the fact I hadn't lifted a finger to clean it in weeks. Around me was dark, the curtains that covered the windows were heavy and thick, and lately I always kept them drawn. I could no longer tell whether it was night or day, and I didn't care unless I had somewhere specific to be. My eyes were glued to the stimulating glow of my monitor, I was staring blankly at nothing in particular but continued to trawl websites nonetheless. A moth throwing itself to fruitless end at a false idol. It was meditative in a sense, a method to quell the rising negative feelings that billowed and fought for control of my thoughts and actions. I had a sense that this form of escapism was increasingly becoming less effective. My legs fidgeted with an abundance of frustrated energy, and I suddenly felt like the walls were too close. It was claustrophobic, I had to get out.

The streets were a glistening mess of puddles and unnatural reflected light; that it had been raining certainly fit my mood. With no destination in mind I began to walk, checking my phone as I went. It was early Sunday evening and I realized with a pang of anxious discomfort that I started my new job tomorrow.

“God damn it.” I muttered to myself.

I hated the feeling. That twisting in my gut and then the overwhelming urge to lock myself away, turn everything off and pretend the world didn't exist until I was forgotten. I looked up from my phone to find I'd walked several blocks, and across the street was the liquor store I frequented. Something to take the edge off would probably be a good idea. I wandered through the isles, wine drunk wasn't what I was looking for, not this time at least. My hand hovered over a cheap bottle of rum, I enjoyed it but – knowing I never recovered well the following day – grabbed vodka from the next shelf instead.

Why I chose to go into teaching was a mystery to me. There wasn't a worse profession for someone with a personality like mine, except maybe retail or hospitality; both of which I had suffered through during college. It never got any easier either, _“It's just first day jitters.”_ I was always told, I wondered how many other people had first day jitters five years into the same job. Still, over time I would find myself in a position where I was comfortably uncomfortable, caught between the crippling anxiety of where I was and the terror of starting over somewhere new.

With little recollection of the walk itself, I was back in my dingy apartment. I kicked off my shoes and lay down on my bed, vodka in hand; twisting the cap off, I took a contemplative swig. The fear that had gripped me the day I'd been let go from my previous job was so intense I thought it might physically crush me. I knew what I would have to do and I didn't want to do it. The searching, the interviews, the rejection. Even though it was highly unlikely, I had hoped that I could have just stayed in the same job until it was time to retire, or I was dead, which ever came first.

My head swam and the knot in my gut loosened. Finally, this was what I needed. I could feel the pull of a fitful drunken sleep tugging at my body, and took a final mouthful of vodka before funneling the rest into a hip flask. The all-important _“first day jitters”_ stash.

I awoke early the next morning to the sound of my alarm, groggy but none the worse for wear. I showered, threw on some clean clothes, grabbed my pile of work things and was out the door. It was still early, I didn't start until 8:30am but decided I needed to leave as soon as I could. The longer I hung around my apartment, the higher the chance I wouldn't leave at all.

When I pulled up in the school parking lot it was deserted, but then it was only a little after 6:00am. I really wanted to go inside and stare at the clock in the staff room until it was time to start. I gathered my books and folders from the passenger seat, maybe someone else was here already.

This was a high school and fairly small. A single, old brick building that didn't cater to more than a couple of hundred students. I cautiously approached the front doors and, to my disappointment, they were chained shut.

“Can I help you?”

A man's voice called from behind me, then I heard his footsteps up the stairs as he approached. My body seized and I battled with myself to even turn around as he met me on the landing. The man appeared to be in his thirties with a slender but fit build, and was only an inch or two taller than me. Square-jawed, with dark brown eyes framed by round glasses, and similarly colored hair, which was neatly parted on the right as I faced him. When he saw the books in my arms he brightened to a smile.

“Oh, you must be our new English teacher! I thought you might have been a parent. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to meet you at the interview.” He held out his hand, “I'm Stephen Colbert, Vice Principal and occasional history teacher.”

I shuffled the jumble of books into my left arm so that I could greet him in return, imagining how disorganized and anxious I must have looked. “Uh, I'm L-Lana,” I mumbled. An English teacher who could barely string a sentence together, quite the first impression I was making. “Lana Woods.” I finally managed to speak with a modicum of confidence, pulling myself together enough to shake his proffered hand.

“Well, it's lovely to meet you Miss Woods.” He nodded politely and checked his watch before pulling some keys out to unchain the door. “You're here very early.” He commented and gave me a quizzical glance as he fiddled with the lock.

I smiled shyly, averting my gaze to look intently at the teaching materials I was carrying, “First day jitters.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day jitters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

Stephen walked down the hall in front of me, stopping outside a door to open it; he politely let me pass in front of him. I entered a large room with several round tables surrounded by chairs. Along the far wall was a kitchen area more impressive than the one in my own apartment. I immediately mulled over the idea of living here in secret.

“This is the staff room, they all start to dribble in around 7, students too.” He paused to check his watch again, “I have some things to take care of, first day of school is always hectic.” He was almost out the door but popped his head back in, “I should mention Principal Evans will be here later and he might drop by your class, just a heads-up. Also my office is on the second floor, if you need anything.” I nodded graciously, recalling the location as I had been up there for my interview, then with a smile and a wink he was gone.

Alone again with my thoughts and books, I promptly dumped the latter on the closest table, pulled out a chair and began to stare at the clock. Minute after minute ticked by while the anxiety tightened it's hold around my chest and throat. That was enough. I checked around to make sure I was alone and took a quick swig of the vodka that was hidden in my bag, followed by a couple breath mints. The warmth that spread through my body soothed my nerves somewhat and no one would be the wiser. I'd had plenty of practice sneaking drink over the years.

There was tea available so I busied myself making a cup, preferring the idea of being farther away from the door when the other teachers began to arrive. No sooner had the thought occurred when a few of them idled in, they were chatting with one another and didn't notice me right away. I slowly turned and rested against the counter, and finally one of them broke from their conversation to come over and greet me. A short, heavyset woman with a jovial personality. I was terrible with names and this was only the beginning, as more people wandered in. Walters, Hancock, Myers, I could already see before me the months of awkward, “Hey, you”'s that were to follow until I was absolutely certain I wasn't going to get anyone's name wrong. Stephen's was the only one I would be sure of, a tiny refuge among the chaos.

After everyone had said their hello's and their welcome's they all went back to chatting with one another about their holidays, and various other topics I didn't care much to join in with. I sat back at the table next to my teaching pile and dug around for the lesson plans I had thrown together, looking them over a final time. They would be refined as I went along, once I knew my students. I glanced at the clock again, it was just about 8am so I decided to move to my classroom and wait for my first students. I could feel the eyes of the other teachers on me as I silently stood to leave, but ignored them. I took a deep breath and stepped into the hall, I was on the second floor but there was a gauntlet to run between where I was and my destination. Now and then a group of students would stare or point, and whisper to each other. That was normal, I was new after all, though it didn't make the situation any more comfortable for me. I was glad to get to my assigned room to enjoy some solitude, however brief.

I placed my books on the desk at the front of the room and wrote my name in neat cursive on the board, with a satisfied nod. I turned with the intention of sitting down when I saw Stephen leaning against the door frame. How long had he been there? He smiled and gave an awkward wave as he moved towards me. I politely returned the gesture, though inside I was dying.

“All set are you?” He asked cheerily, checking the board behind me, “Lovely handwriting.”

Really? He had interrupted my final moments of peace for some small talk? I suppressed a frustrated sigh.

“Oh, thank you very much,” half turning towards the board and then back to him, “Yes, I'm ready to go, just waiting on the kids.” I said with feigned enthusiasm.

“Alright, I'll get out of your hair then, just wanted to check in before you started.” He smiled as he made his way out, turning to face me from the door, “Good luck Miss Woods.” he added dramatically with a comical salute.

I laughed. It was a proper laugh as well, and for a moment I felt light. No frustration, no anxiety, I was free. He seemed to appreciate the response and left down the hall with a satisfied look on his face.

 

*****

 

It was finally the end of a very long and tiring day, with the silver lining that most of my students appeared to be attentive and willing to learn. A teacher's Godsend. Some even implied that I was nicer than the person I had replaced, an opinion I didn't discourage them from holding. I hadn't given out any homework, as much for my own benefit as theirs, and now I gathered my things together at a snail's pace and prepared to head home.

“So how did it go?”

That familiar baritone pierced the meditative silence, I almost leaped out of my skin.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Stephen held up his hands apologetically, “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“F-fine.” I gasped through my panic, “They're good kids.” I continued to shuffle papers into folders and stack books.

“Mhm, and your nerves?”

I paused what I was doing. The question itself was unexpected, but something about the _way_ he asked it sat oddly in my mind as well.

“All gone!” I replied, summoning my best happy voice without looking up. I continued to tidy my things, afraid he'd see straight through the lie. I didn't want him to ask any more questions. “I'm just about to head home,” picking up my handbag and slinging it over my shoulder before scooping a few books and folders off my desk and into my arms, “was there something else?” I finally met his eyes with a plastered smile on my face.

He was casually leaning against the door frame as he had that morning and was watching me intently. I shouldn't have looked at him, I could feel him trying to read me, digging around for the truth. “No, Miss Woods, nothing else.” He straightened himself but remained on the threshold, “I just wanted to make sure our new teacher had settled in.” He continued softly as a comforting smile curled the corners of his lips.

I suddenly felt terrible. “I.. appreciate that.” I returned with sincerity, it was the least I could do after being so dismissive.

“Have a good evening, I'll see you tomorrow.” He nodded politely and left.

 

*****

 

When I finally arrived home I dropped everything at my feet and flopped face-down on my bed. I thought about how tired I felt, the creeping anxiety of returning there tomorrow, and then every day after that until I was dead. It was overwhelming. There was a common theme that ran through all of the jobs I'd ever had, it was a surprised exclamation followed by the phrase, _“Oh but you're so good at it.”_ No one seemed to give a rats-ass about the mental stress I was under – or even believe that I _was_ stressed – just because I was good at what I did. There were aspects of teaching that were fulfilling for me. I somehow connected with students despite my propensity for solitude, was able to identify and help individuals who were having issues and was generally met with the same respect I gave when interacting with them. All of these things I could do well, I just didn't _like_ to do them, the experience drained me. However, far worse than students were the parents, co-workers and office politics, all inevitable and unavoidable parts of the school environment. My burden would have been considerably lighter if it were just me, a room and my students.

I yelled loudly into the mattress and rolled on my back with a sigh. As I stared blankly at the dark ceiling, I rolled the events of the day over in my head. Stephen seemed dedicated, it was clear he enjoyed what he did and cared for the school; qualities I noted were necessary but not always apparent in other faculty members. There was something about him I found oddly engaging, in spite of his fondness for brown tweed jackets and pleated khakis. His personality was filled with the color so desperately missing from the limited palette of his wardrobe. My thoughts floated on his soft face and warm smile, his kindness had made my day slightly less gut-wrenching than it otherwise might have been.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then you notice you're falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

It was several weeks into the semester, first assignments had been handed out and I could see the shift in my students, from carefree to ashen-faced expressions of _“How am I going to get all this shit done?”_ Not that this was a picnic for me either. I had mountains of homework and tests to grade, and as terrible as I had been at looking after myself prior to starting this job, I was far worse now. I dreaded going home just because I knew the state that it was in, eating was a thing I only sometimes remembered to do, and my laundry routine was to wash the outfit I needed for the next day. I felt that as a woman in her late twenties I should have my shit a little more together, but had no idea where to start.

I entered the staff room for lunch, which for me was a chocolate bar from the vending machine, again. I sat at an empty table facing the windows. The other teachers left me alone for the most part. I was never _rude,_ of course, and politely indulged them in conversation when I had to, but my disinterest in forming any sort of actual bond of friendship was not subtle. There was only one person not picking up on my vibe.

Most of the time I wouldn't see Stephen at lunch, but when he was teaching he liked to talk with the other faculty about the students, any problems, and general teacher things. He didn't seem to understand that I was alone _by choice,_ even when I'd arrive after him and purposefully sit at a separate table; once he'd finished his conversation with the others he would always join me. It was frustrating but there were some cues he did pick up on, like he never forced me to talk, a lot of the time we would just sit together in silence. I appreciated that much at least. Sometimes he would launch into a joke or an amusing story right as he sat down, as though he could read my mood. “You should have been a comedian, Colbert.” I had said one day, he seemed to relish the compliment, I even thought he might have blushed. There was the tiniest whisper of a thing that would twinge in the back of my mind when he made me laugh; I realized I'd begun to wait for him, and when he didn't show, I was disappointed.

 

*****

 

I was in my classroom one evening with a pile of papers to grade. I had found staying late was the best way for me to get anything done; my apartment was not conducive to a healthy work ethic. I opened the lower drawer of my desk and took out a small glass I'd brought from home, then pulled the hip flask out of my hand bag. The liquid filling the glass had become a comforting sound, it signified the end of another day and the suppression of the impending anxiety about the next.

I was startled when I sat up again after tucking the flask back into my bag, holding my chest and taking a few deep breaths.

“Stephen, are you trying to kill me!? What are you still doing here?” My voice exasperated as I tried to calm down. I had never noticed him around the building this late.

He silently reached down and picked the glass off my desk, holding it up to his nose to smell the contents. My body tensed. He tilted his head, brow slightly cocked, placing it down and sliding it a few inches towards me.

“That can get you fired, you do realize?”

There was not an ounce of threat in his voice, in fact the tone was more concerned. It was the kind of warning one friend might give to another, but my instinct was always to become defensive. It tended to keep people at a comfortable distance.

“Here to turn me in Colbert?” speaking sharply as I picked the glass up and sipped from it while he watched, “I'm careful. No one is _usually_ around by this time.” I shot at him. My eyes drifted to his left hand and wedding ring before he placed the hand in his pocket. I felt a deep ache in my chest, God I hoped it hadn't shown on my face. I'd never noticed, or perhaps I didn't want to look; he was married, but it didn't matter, wasn't important at all. I shoved it all into that disheveled box, and doubled down on the idea that keeping him – and everyone else – out of my life was the right thing to do. “Don't you have a home to go to?” I added nonchalantly.

I thought my confrontational attitude would deter him from staying. To my dismay, he pulled a chair over to the desk and sat opposite me, legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. He gave me a considered look; I tried not to reveal how very much I wanted him to go away.

“How have you been?”

The tenderness in his voice caught me off-guard.

“I'm..” my eyes flickered to the small glass in front of me as I carefully chose my words, “I'm fine, the students here seem motivated and have been easy to work with.” I met his gaze, “The teachers too, from what I've seen to far.”

I purposely interpreted and answered the question as strictly professional, though I thought he may have been prying for something more. He shifted in his seat, gripping and rubbing his hands nervously. I hoped that meant he may find a reason to go. This was too personal, too close for my liking.

“That's good to hear.” He smiled.

I felt a part of my brain melt, as though I'd never seen him smile before. Of course that wasn't true, he had smiled at me many times, but never in a situation like this. Never just the two of us in the deafening quiet of an empty school, only a desk and our thoughts between us. With no other distractions, _now_ I noticed, _now I could see_. I tried to ignore how beautiful it was, and the pounding in my chest.

“Anyway, I suppose you're right,” he adjusted his glasses and stood, “I do have a home I should get back to.”

“Fine.” I replied with as much indifference as I could muster.

I took the first of the papers I needed to grade from the top of the pile and placed it in front of me. Before I could turn the cover page, his hand was resting on it gently. My face flushed so I chose not to look up at him.

“Don't forget to go back to yours.”

I stared at the place his hand had been for a long while after he left.

 

*****

 

I wasn't okay that night. There was a rational part of me that was aware this wasn't _really_ Stephen's fault. All he had done was try to make me feel welcome, but I didn't give a shit. Once I got home every pent up emotion fell out. I drank too much and I cried for a long time; deep heaving sobs that felt as though they tore my ribs apart. How had this happened? I never even knew how far he'd crept into my head and coiled his treacherous tendrils around my heart. I felt betrayed.

“And for what?” I yelled drunkenly into my knees, as I lay curled up in the dust and the dark, “Yes, I'm crushed, are you happy now?”

When I was too worn out to cry any more I sat up, bleary eyed, and turned on the light. I was emotionally drained but couldn't sleep. I began to wander around my apartment, picking things up. Before long I was mindlessly cleaning everything. I organised my belongings, did the dishes, sorted out my laundry. I couldn't stop, driven by an intense desire not to think about anything; by the time I was done it was almost 5:30am and I hadn't slept.

I showered and got ready for work. My dread peaked, I did not want to go even more than usual. My every intention was to avoid Stephen at all costs.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want him to stop..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

I had started having lunch in my classroom each day, not only did it mean I could avoid Stephen but it also allowed me to get some extra work done. My efforts had been successful, I'd only run into him occasionally between classes or when I was arriving or leaving for the day. I'd avoid conversation with a determined walk, just offering him a nod or a small wave on my way past.

Things weren't better but they were controlled. I didn't want or need to be fostering feelings for a married man, on top of my ever-present anxiety. I poured a generous shot of vodka into a bottle of cola I'd bought for lunch – I was still working on my eating habits. It was reckless drinking between classes, but I justified it to myself, there was a lot to keep a lid on.

This would all blow over soon, I hoped.

In the midst of my self medication a few of my students wandered in from lunch early. I put my cola away and took my feet off the desk. This was the downside of taking my break here.

“What's up guys?” A friendly greeting, I could turn it on when I needed to.

One of the kids, Caleb, walked up to my desk, the others sat down at theirs.

“Hey Miss Woods, did you see these?”

He dropped a flyer in front of me, I picked it up and quickly scanned it. I'd forgotten another unavoidable aspect of a school environment, the events. There was apparently a Fall dance planned and I would rather have faced a room full of angry parents alone than go to it.

“What do you think?” He added and then turned to face the few filled seats in the class, “I know a few ladies that I might be interested in asking.” he confidently declared.

I watched them smirk and roll their eyes.

“That's lovely, sit down thank you Caleb.” I replied in a firm but amused tone.

I stood up to write a few things on the board when the rest of the class began to dribble in from lunch. Stephen walked down the hall outside my room, he caught my eye for a split second but didn't stop. I couldn't decide if I'd wanted him to or not.

 

*****

 

I had made time that afternoon to see Principal Evans to seek approval for an idea, a field trip for one of my classes. His assistant was on the phone when I arrived, but she smiled politely and gestured that it was alright for me to go through.

I pulled some notes out of my bag as I walked into the office, quickly looking them over, and turned to close the door behind me.

“Ah, Miss Woods!”

I froze, that was not the voice I had expected to hear.

“I apologize, but Michael had to leave early today, I hope this is something I can help with?”

Stephen was looking up at me. He had paused, pen in hand over some paperwork, while he talked. He adjusted his glasses, and God, he was smiling at me again. I walked a couple of steps toward the desk and stopped, “Actually, I.. I don't think..” I tripped over my words, my hands shook; I was in a visible state of discomfort as I tried to pull a coherent sentence together, “I'll come back another time.” I backed up and turned to leave.

“Lana,” gentle, concerned.

My skin bristled, he'd never used my first name, it sounded too familiar when he spoke it, his voice was too soft, too.. loving. I heard him stand and walk around the desk toward me, I faced him with great hesitation. He stepped slowly, awkwardly, as though I were a bird that might fly away if he wasn't careful.

“If.. I've done something, _anything_ to upset you I..” he took another step, now only inches between us, “Please.. you can talk to me.”

He was so worried, worried that he'd hurt me, worried about _my_ problems. They weren't his burden, I didn't want him to take them on. I didn't want his concern, or compassion, or understanding. I didn't want him to care, I wanted him to walk away. I should have walked away, this was all wrong.

I couldn't meet his eyes, so I looked anywhere else. I noticed the way the tweed jacket he wore broadened and squared his shoulders. The way the knot in his tie, a four in hand, was centered perfectly at the base of his throat. I looked at his neck, and the way his shirt collar hugged it. I admired the line of his jaw and the waiting fullness of his lips. He swallowed nervously; my pulse spiked. The air was thick between us, it felt like swimming through sand; difficult to breathe or think.

I could feel him watching, silently begging me to look up just a little higher, though I dared not. I knew I shouldn't, I knew what he was searching for and that he'd find it. I valiantly resisted but for one, single moment of weakness; an instant later the soft warmth of his kiss pressed with urgency against my mouth. His arms encompassed me, pulling me in, and one hand slid around to clasp the back of my neck; mine remained tensed at my sides. The kiss was politely restrained, but I could sense that there was much more he wanted from me, and I willed him to take it. I thought of lying naked beneath him as he moved inside me, my lips at his ear would whisper his name. I didn't want him to stop... _I didn't want him to stop._ My eyes shot open and when I gently pushed away, he released me. We stepped back from one another, gasping for air, my head was a fogged mess of confusion.

“I.. I'm sorry.” He was shattered, panicked.

I couldn't look at him. I had to get out.

I said nothing, just left as quickly as I could, out of the office and past the receptionist, ignoring the strange look she gave me.

I was shaking when I got to my classroom, heaping student assignments and paperwork together and then gathering them in my arms. It was Friday, I still had a class left to teach but I couldn't face that right now. _Get out, get out of the building_ , that's all the scattered fragments of thought were telling me. I walked blindly down the hall toward the stairs, fighting back the tsunami of emotion that threatened to break over me.

“Lana, stop.. please.”

 _No_. I could hear confusion in his voice, he was desperate to talk; I didn't care. I tried to step around him, then I felt his hands on my shoulders. I met his eyes with a frown, blinking back tears and pulling out of his hold. There were people around, I needed to keep it together a little longer.

“I.. I'm sorry, something's come up, I have to leave. You'll need to find someone to cover my last class.”

I felt him watching helplessly from the top of the stairs as I descended. _Good_.

I sat in my car for what felt like a long time not knowing what to do. Then it was as though I blinked and found myself home. I had no recollection of leaving, of driving; nothing except that kiss. It branded my memory and still hung on my lips.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

I didn't see Stephen much at all in the weeks that followed, I think he was avoiding me as much as I was him, though I suspected he was doing it more for my benefit. When we did cross paths my stomach would flip, and I was torn by conflicting emotions, but I didn't acknowledge him. I knew how badly he wanted to catch my eye, he wanted a reason to break the wall of silence; I wasn't about to give him an excuse to worm his way further into my thoughts.

My students noticed a change in me as well, more than one had come to me outside class to ask if I was alright. I was annoyed that my teaching had been affected to a noticeable degree by this mess. A fake smile and a lie dismissed their concern, but it was just another reason I had to harbor resentment toward Stephen.

 

*****

 

I made my way to the staff room, filled with dread. The closer I got, the more sure I was I would walk straight past the door and out of the building. Stephen had called a faculty meeting as Vice Principal to discuss the Fall dance that was happening the following day.

I entered the room with my head down, pretending I was reading some papers. I never walked anywhere through the school without papers to pretend to read these days. I moved as quickly as I could to the back of the room to sit down while the last few teachers filed in after me.

“Okay, that's everyone!” he seemed cheery, “I don't plan on keeping you long, I just wanted to go over a couple of things for the dance tomorrow.”

Hearing his voice made my hands clammy and my heart race, I hated it, I loved it. My face flushed and I remained intently focused on the papers in my lap.

He continued, “First of all, attendance is mandatory.”

This statement was met with unenthusiastic groans from the room, my own among them.

Stephen held up his hands and responded to this – obviously expected – reaction, “I'm sorry but we need everyone here to chaperone.” There was some more quiet grumbling as he moved on, “We have also decided that staff can bring a plus one if they so wish.” This seemed to get a few of them back on-side, and he added with some snark, “I hope that it makes the few extra hours you have to be here on a Friday more bearable.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was scanning the room casually but seemed to linger in my direction; I ignored it.

“Alright if there aren't any questions you're all free to go.”

I stood as everyone milled around, preparing to leave for the day. Making a beeline for the exit was all that was on my mind.

“Miss Woods, could I see you for a moment?” I heard above the din.

I seized, surprised and incensed that he would do this to me. The other teachers began to make their way out, stepping around me as I stood there.

“Actually, I am already late for something.” I pointed behind me with the intention of following the last of my colleagues out; sounding amazingly calm and collected considering the anger boiling just beneath the surface.

“It'll just take a minute.” he looked me dead in the eye, then brushed past me to close the door after the last of the group had left the room.

Oh, that was a mistake.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I unloaded at him in a whispered yell, aware that some of the others might still be nearby, “You think it's funny? Backing me into a corner in front of everyone?”

“I ..I didn't know how else to talk to you.” He seemed to realize in that instant, and yet far too late, the mistake he'd made.

I rounded on him and got in his face, my finger pressed into his sternum, “I'll tell you how. You. Don't!” I spat, “And how dare you think that's your decision to make after what you did.”

I could see the panic and regret in his face, it was all I could do to keep my heart from shattering as I unleashed all my pain on him.

“How _dare_ you use a staff meeting to publicly manipulate me. _You_ fucked up, _you_ get to deal with the consequences of that. Don't you ever, _ever_ do that to me again.”

I wanted to slap him and I wanted to kiss him but I did neither. I stepped back, shaking with adrenaline and on the verge of tears. I had said what I needed to, and now I was about to fall apart in front of him. He watched me in stunned silence, hesitant to approach; finally deciding to take a couple of careful steps forward with his arms slightly outstretched. It was a tempting offer of comfort, but I held up my hand.

  
“I.. um, I'm late for something so..” I wiped my eyes shakily and stood up straight, confidently looking at him before I walked out and closed the door firmly behind me.

I thought I was going to go home but I couldn't drive, not in that state. I made my way back up to my classroom where it was dark and quiet, and flopped down in my chair. The sky was a fiery orange as I watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon to give way to the first of the evening's stars. I pulled out my secret stash of alcohol and poured a glass.

“I toast to.. hmm, to this job, it's every horrible thing I thought it would be, and more.”

I swallowed the whole thing and immediately poured another.

 

*****

 

I was vaguely aware of a voice around me, it seemed to be concerned and calling to me.

“Lana.. Lana!” There were hands on me, I was moving I think.

“God damn it, how much have you had?” The voice hissed urgently, “Lana, I need you to wake up for me, just a little bit.”

I didn't know quite what was going on, all I knew was that I didn't want the worried voice to be worried any more, so I roused myself clumsily off the..

“Where'm I?” I slurred, pressing my face against the thing I was resting on, trying to decipher any clues.

I heard clinking and papers being moved around.

“You're still at school,” said the gentle voice, “you passed out at your desk.” it was beautiful..

“Like honey in the sunlight.” I said aloud.

“I don't know what that means.”

“Your voice.” I whispered.

He didn't reply but I felt my chair being pulled out and then the sensation of being lifted. I reached instinctively to hold on, wrapping my arms around the neck of my good samaritan as he carried me to where ever we were going.

“Where're we going?” I thought I should at least ask.

I was sitting again, in a softer seat this time. Things started to pull together to form more coherent images of the world.

“Oh thissis my car.” Perhaps sounding a little too proud that I'd solved the mystery. I paused for a moment, trying to focus on the person who's hands were putting on my seatbelt. “Stephen?” I whispered.

He looked up from adjusting the belt and I could just make out a blurred vision of him even though he was only inches away from me. I ran my hand over his cheek before he took it and placed it back in my lap, I smiled at him.

“I'm going to take you home.” I think I saw him smile as well, but he still sounded worried.

We drove in silence for an amount of time of which I had no comprehension, while I mulled over what might be worrying him.

“Probably the fight.” I said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Stephen, I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

“Lana, we shouldn't talk about this right now, you're going to feel differently..”

“Iss juss because I'm in love with you.” I interjected.

It was hard to focus again, I closed my eyes.

I was next roused by another vague sensation of being lifted and the familiar smell of home, then my whole body was cradled in softness and covered.

“You can stay.” I slurred tiredly into my pillow, rubbing the open space on the bed beside me.

A hand gently stroked my hair and I felt warm breath against my ear. The softly spoken words floating through my head and evaporating like a dream.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My life was already one irresponsible decision after another, why change now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

When I woke up the next morning my head felt as though it were full of mud, thick and heavy. I looked around, trying to piece together how I'd even ended up here. I remembered yelling at Stephen followed by more than a few drinks, but that was in my classroom. I hadn't left anything at school – despite my condition – and their placement was suspicious. My work folder was on my desk, handbag hung up on the door to my apartment. It was all very.. neat. I squinted, there was something else stuck to the door. A note? I rolled groggily out of bed, holding my head and stumbling over, I pulled it down curiously.

 

_Don't worry about coming in today, I'll cover your classes._

_\- Stephen_

 

I felt my chest tighten, if he'd left the note then.. he'd brought me home. I read it again and sat on the edge of my bed, wracking my brain for clues to anything I might have said or done. It was bad enough that I'd let myself get that out of control on school grounds, but to have been found by _him,_ especially after our exchange yesterday afternoon. I was beyond mortified.

I wanted to call the school, talk to Stephen to find out what had happened, but it didn't seem appropriate. I sighed, looking up at the handbag hung on my door. I had been blackout drunk, he'd found me, gathered my things together and then driven me here.

Had he stayed the night?

My face blushed before I shook the pleasant reverie from my head. Hoping I'd drunkenly lured a married man into my bed felt pretty low. I didn't genuinely believe he would have stayed anyway. I'd reacted so badly to the kiss, and I doubted he would have wanted to be perceived as taking advantage of me. If there was one thing I knew Stephen had, it was good manners.. most of the time, and definitely in this case. He had brought me home, put me to bed and left, like a gentleman.

The effort I'd made to distance myself from him, the bad habits and behaviors that should have chased him off had no effect. He stubbornly remained in my thoughts. In fact I was sure my affection for him had deepened because he kept being charming, and handsome, and funny, and helpful.

“Damn you Colbert.” I muttered, scrunching the note up and throwing it on the floor.

He had given me the day off as well, which was incredibly kind, or maybe it was guilt. Either way I figured I should at least spend the time catching up on some work, then I would find something nice to wear and suffer through that awful dance. I didn't want to face my colleague's backhanded comments if I didn't show up.

 

*****

 

Since it was Friday and I already had to be out, I decided that I'd head into the city after the dance. Style wasn't exactly top of my priority list, however I did own one nice black dress which I'd barely worn. On it went, along with some pumps, a long coat and an attempt at hair and make-up. Maybe it wasn't perfect but it was much more effort than anyone at school would have seen me put in to an outfit before.

I was going to catch cabs around that night so I was free to have a couple of drinks before I left. The liquid courage was sorely needed, there wasn't a worse experience I could think of than being stuck in a room with all the staff and students. The awkward milling and conversation, the music that would be _just_ loud enough to make those awkward conversations extra awkward and especially irritating. I'd been to a few of these and each time the best part was watching the students being terrified of slow dancing with one another, but that was mere minutes of entertainment among hours of torture.

I stepped out of the cab and took another mouthful from my flask, placing it back into my bag before walking onto the school grounds. I had a nice buzz, not drunk but enough to keep me entertained for a while. The students had done a beautiful job decorating the gym, it was clear a lot of thought and dedication had gone into the theme and I could be proud of them for that, even if I resented having to be there. I cast around to see where the other teachers were, but it was difficult to make anyone out in the dim light. After carefully scanning I began to spot them, scattered throughout the crowd of students, some with people I assumed were the guest they'd brought.

As I moved slowly through the dancing mob, I was keenly aware that there was a person in particular I was looking for. My heart leaped for an instant when I saw him across the room, followed quickly by the knife that stabbed and twisted in my gut. He was talking to someone, a woman I hadn't seen before. She was beautiful, elegant, well put together. Everything I wasn't. It was hard to tell from a distance but he seemed agitated and when he looked around the room he caught me staring.

_This was a horrible mistake_. I pushed through the crowd away from him and toward the exit. What had I been thinking coming here? I stumbled out of the gym and down the hall with every intention of leaving, I felt sick. An appearance was good enough, no one would notice I'd gone. I grabbed my coat from the staff room and then walked out the front, smiling at a few more students who headed inside past me. I pulled my phone out to get a cab, the idea of a night out on the town was now _very_ appealing.

“Heading home already?”

My eyes shifted from my phone to Stephen. Everything about him was slightly askew, walking through an undulating crowd could generate quite a lot of intimate contact.

“I actually wasn't expecting to see you here at all.” He continued softly, taking a few tentative steps toward me. He placed his hands in his pockets and there was that smile again, “How are you feeling?”

I tried to sound neutral even though seeing him with his perfect wife had torn my chest in two.

“I'm fine.” My go-to answer and an obvious lie. I conveniently checked my phone again when I felt the tears begin to well in my eyes, giving myself time to push them back.

“Lana I..”

“Thank you..” I interrupted, “for last night. It was stupid what I did, I appreciate your kindness and your discretion. There is a lot you could have fired me for.”

I could feel his eyes on me and he moved casually closer, testing my boundaries. It was sexy, even though I knew it shouldn't be.

“You're an excellent teacher, Miss Woods, I can't let you go..” His body physically tensed at the phrasing he chose; so did mine, “What I mean is, we all have our vices, and as long as it's not interfering with your classes.. well I'm not going to say it's okay, but it's something I'm willing to overlook. Anyway, I.. I understand some of the reason why you did what you did.”

I could hear the pained guilt in his voice.

“Did I say anything.. bad last night?” I ventured a look up at him.

He smiled reassuringly, “Bad? No, nothing bad.”

I could tell he wasn't lying, though perhaps withholding something. The tightness in my chest and the sickness I'd felt dissipated somewhat, but I couldn't help but notice that the reason I wanted to leave in the first place had carefully avoided mention. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to bring it up either, or just pretend for a little while longer that I had a chance.

“You look beautiful.” he whispered, his eyes drifting a leisurely path down my body and then back to meet mine.

I was left speechless and blushed profusely. My hand trembled as I reached up to neaten his tousled hair. He stood still and silent, allowing me to touch him freely. I straightened his tie and shirt collar, ran my fingers down his lapel and did up the top button on his jacket. He was so close I could feel his warmth reaching out to surround me. My heart thudded against my ribs. All at once his hands slipped beneath my coat and around my waist, I was backed against the wall of the alcove and his forehead rested on mine. Our breath fogged in the cold fall air and mingled in the space between us.

“I.. just want you to know, I didn't stay.” he spoke quietly, and with hesitation, “You asked me to stay with you last night but.. I didn't want you to think..”

“It's okay,” I broke eye contact for a moment, then continued with a shy smile, “I knew you hadn't, you're a gentleman.”

He was being so careful, so restrained, he was afraid to make another mistake. I could have stopped him at any point, that would have been the responsible thing to do, but I didn't want to. My life was already one irresponsible decision after another, why change now? He drew me in by the waist, his hands holding my lower back while mine rested on his chest and shoulder. The smoldering look he gave me burned it's way through my lingering defenses. This time when he kissed me, I gave myself to him willingly.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

Each time he pulled lightly on my lips, his tongue moved across them to beg me for a little more. I submitted easily to the request, slipping into his mouth and he into mine; I wondered why he tasted so sweet as he pulled the breath from my body. I moved my arms so they wrapped around his neck and buried my hands in his hair. He grunted in response, a deep and sexy sound that felt like fire through my body. I reluctantly broke from him to catch my breath. He hugged me tighter and pressed me firmly against the wall, chasing my lips with a smile and a few gentle bites. I couldn't recall a time in my life when a man had looked at me the way Stephen did in that moment.

I held onto him and it was only then – when I looked over his shoulder – that I noticed someone watching from the door. We were so caught up in one another that neither of us heard her approach. He gave me a baffled look when I suddenly tried to push him away.

“What's wrong?” He smiled, thinking I was joking around.

But I was distressed, nearly in tears, because the truth of it all was staring me down with such vitriol. I was nothing but a cheap imitation, unworthy, and a home wrecker.

“Your.. your wife is waiting for you.” I choked out, a whisper broken by suppressed sobs. I felt my heart break all at once for what I'd done, and a man I'd lost before I ever had him.

He shot around, her expression was cold and she stared daggers at him. The hate was palpable and I didn't want to be there any more. Once he let me go I ran down the steps and got into the cab that was waiting for me. I looked back at him, his wife must have gone inside and he now stood alone on the landing, one hand cupped across his mouth, his eyes expressing all the pain I could feel tearing at my insides. I knew what I wanted to do; run to him, embrace him, kiss him, make everything alright. That wasn't my fate though.

The cab pulled away and I saw Stephen watching me leave. The last thing I wanted right now was to feel anything and the temptation was for me to just go home and drink myself to sleep.

“Just, um, take me to the city, please.” I croaked to the driver, wiping my eyes.

 

*****

 

I didn't return home until the small hours of the morning. The pulsing lights and deafening music had been able to push everything else out of my head. I kept being bought drinks as well which didn't hurt. There were some blank spots in my memory, after checking myself in a bathroom mirror I knew I must have been up to mischief. The smeared lipstick and general dishevelled appearance told me that much.

“Stephen?” I was breathless when I saw him.

He was slumped against my door, with half an open bottle of rum gripped tightly in his hand. He looked up, drunk and exhausted, then offered the bottle to me. I took it from him while he stumbled to his feet so that I could let us inside.

“What are you doing here? H-how long have you..?” I was both elated and broken.

“I don't know,” he held his forehead, I understood the feeling of trying to scrape the loose mud of thoughts together while in that state, “When I was done at the school, I- I came over.. I don't know why I thought you would be home after..”

He looked at me, his expression brimming with guilt. I guided him to the bed so that we could sit, my gut was in knots about what the following conversation might entail. A weight pressed in on my chest and I sipped from the bottle to try and alleviate it. Stephen gestured for me to pass it to him, but downed a fair bit more than I had.

He placed the bottle on the floor and sat up slowly, “It didn't occur to me at first,” he began, “why you started to distance yourself from me.” He was looking down at his hands, fiddling with the wedding ring he still wore. “I am an eternal optimist.” He shook his head, “Hope, blind commitment, denial. All reasons I still wear this thing.” His eyes lifted, peering over the top of his glasses to look at me, “I understand how badly I've hurt you. It wasn't my intention but I know that doesn't nullify the result of my actions.”

I didn't know what to say, so I nodded for him to continue.

“I _told_ her not to show up there last night,” I could hear the frustration, “she was expecting a night out after the school dance, even though I'd called it off.. She always does this, tries to manipulate me. I thought we were in a better place when I first talked to her about it, not that there's been a “better place” for long time. Denial, you see?” He half smiled and went back to twisting the ring around his finger. “She refused to leave, I was angry but what could I do? Then you were there. I knew she might follow me, but I felt sick when you saw us and you were so upset. I wanted to explain, and I should have so much sooner. All I did was make things worse, I'm sorry.” Those final two words a choked whisper.

I ran my hands down my face, “So.. what are you saying? You _aren't_ with her?”

“I'm still married for now, but we aren't together.. not any more.” He was subdued, very aware of the delicateness of the situation.

“ _Not any more._ ” I repeated quietly, frowning to myself.

I wasn't sure how to process this, I still felt like a home wrecker and I guess that showed in my expression. He shifted closer to me and took my hands, weaving his fingers with mine. “Lana, this isn't your fault, you aren't some catalyst for the demise of my marriage. I never want you to think that.” Softly nudging my forehead with his so that I'd look at him. “It has all been a long time coming, well before you were in the picture.”

I still wasn't sure I believed him, but I said no more.

My eyes were glassy, there was a lot more happening emotionally than I was used to dealing with, more than I could contain. The idea that the path was clear frightened me, I needed to keep digging. There was always something, some reason a relationship wouldn't work if I just looked hard enough. However by this point I could see we were both beginning to fade, there was so much still to unpack but exhaustion was setting in. Stephen stood, looking down at me, clasping his hands anxiously like he had something to say but was unsure and mulling it over.

I squinted at him, “Spit it out Colbert.” he was making me nervous.

“Would you mind if I stayed.. here?” he blushed and I did as well, “It's just been a long night and.. Only if you're comfortable though.. and it doesn't have to be _with_ you, I can take the floor..” the words forced out quickly.

I wasn't expecting that, “Oh, yeah of course, that's fine.” I got up to turn the light out and my bedside lamp on instead, “You.. uh don't have to sleep on the floor.” I added quietly.

He tensed and nodded stiffly. We were as shy and apprehensive as some of the kids I'd observed at the dance. When he began to undress in front of me my heart beat so hard I thought it would burst through my chest. I was flustered and didn't quite know where to look, so I just tried not to look at him.

“I'm not getting naked you know.” he smirked at my awkwardness, “What about you?” then realized what he'd said a moment later, “I- I mean, you don't normally wear a dress and high heels to bed do you?”

He'd folded his jacket, button down, trousers and tie neatly over the back of my chair and placed his shoes by the desk, then turned to face me. An undershirt and briefs was a clothing situation still entirely too revealing for me to handle calmly.

“I- I uh, no.”

Words and coherency eluded me. I peeked at him through my fingers, he was smiling and walking over as I lay on the bed, propped up against the headboard. His hands were soft and warm, gliding smoothly over my lower legs before slipping my shoes off one at a time. He offered a hand to help me up, which I took, and then pulled me into a firm hug, I felt him locate the dress' zip on my back.

“When I kissed you, this is all I could think of doing.” What he said and the way he purred it into my ear made me weak.

I felt the dress open slowly and shivered when his fingertips touched my bare skin, blushing and erupting in goosebumps down my back and arms. He stepped away, smiling and admiring me, or maybe relishing my reaction.

“Do you want me to turn around or..?”

I searched around my bed for the shirt I normally slept in.

“No, uh.. I'll just be right back.”

I walked calmly to the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it for a minute. The dress slipped off my shoulders and onto the floor, and I stepped out of the ring of crumpled cloth, throwing the shirt on as I did; a huge men's shirt, my favorite kind of pajamas. My make-up was a mess, I hastily removed what remained of it and brushed my teeth, all the time very aware that he was waiting.

He was watching as I stepped shyly back into the main room with my arms folded in front of me.

“Looks comfy.” He grinned, and took his glasses off, placing them on the side table.

This was an intimate act to me, he'd removed the final piece of the man I knew from work. My face flushed and bottom lip caught between my teeth, he was very handsome without them.

I crawled across the bed and under the covers, reaching over to turn the lamp off. The bed dipped with Stephen's weight as he moved into the space beside me. My heart raced, it suddenly felt far too warm for all these blankets. I lay still on my back in the darkness, and suspected he was doing the same. It amused me that the man who had twice kissed me at school didn't want to be presumptuous now that we were, arguably, in a more appropriate location. I inched my hand slowly along the mattress until I was touching his arm. I could see a faint outline of him, he turned his head toward me, his eyes glinting pinpoints of reflected ambient light. I rolled onto my side and moved closer to him, his arm scooping me in as I lay my head on the softness between his shoulder and chest. I draped an arm and a leg across his body, my feet finding warmth under and between his legs. His fingers tenderly stroked my hair and the back of my neck.

“Goodnight, Lana.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get spicy for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

I reached tiredly around the bed and frowned when I didn't feel him there, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. He was gone. A lot had happened last night, maybe he needed time to process everything, though that logic didn't dull the pangs of disappointment I felt. For the first time in many weeks I pulled the curtains open. The warm morning light flooded in; it was refreshing, I'd forgotten that.

I took a shower, scrubbing the smell of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke off my skin. I thought about whether him leaving was an opportunity, the one I'd been looking for last night. Before we're in too deep, we could just mutually agree everything that had happened between us so far was a mistake. My stomach clenched. I'd _known_ it would be from the start, but he was so insistent. How could my  defenses stand against such a pursuit? This wasn't my fault but now I had to suffer the consequences all the same. I huffed, threw my clothes with frustration into the laundry hamper and walked out of the bathroom.

It took a long moment for me to register that Stephen was standing by my bed holding a coffee tray and flowers. The sound I made was somewhere between a squeal and a screech, while I clambered to try and cover myself with my arms. I was supposed to have been home alone, so of course I hadn't bothered to wrap myself in a towel. Why would I?

He quickly turned away, “Oh shit, oh shit, I'm so sorry!”

I sprinted back to the bathroom and slammed the door, overturning the hamper to get my shirt. So much of me never wanted to leave that room again. I paced around, red faced, I'd imagined him seeing me naked plenty of times but at no point did it happen like _that_. There was a soft knock on the door and then his muffled voice.

“Lana, I'm sorry. I was trying to do something nice for you.”

I leaned against the sink and rested my forehead on the mirror in front of me.

“I thought you'd left.”

“No.. what? Really?”

“Well you were gone, I thought you needed some time or whatever.” I tried to sound calm and even dismissive, but there was a tremble in my voice that I couldn't hide.

“Come out of there, please?”

That sweet begging tone hooked me. I opened the door and walked straight into him without looking. I was still very embarrassed. He wrapped me in a hug while I rested my head on his shoulder and played coyly with his jacket and tie.

“If it's any consolation, you're very sexy.”

His honeyed voice melted over me, but with a compliment that made it even more difficult to look at him. I smirked, coiled his tie around my fist and tugged it firmly.

“You don't know that because a gentleman doesn't look.” I whispered.

“ _You're_ the one who's assumed I'm a gentleman, Miss Woods.”

Holy shit, that was sexy. Those words sent a wave of charged heat rushing down my body from head to tow, and I was aware of the change in atmosphere. The air now hung heavy around us, thick with desire. I let his tie slip smoothly from around my hand and went back to playing with his lapel. From where my head rested I could see him swallow nervously, his fingers rubbed in absent circles on my back. It seemed that neither of us could decide how to act on the current tension, or whether we should. He'd bought coffee, I kind of wanted coffee, but I also wanted him to do ungentlemanly things to me.

My fingers walked up his chest and touched his cheek, then my lips were on his neck. I sucked gently on the soft skin and grazed it with my teeth until I heard him sigh. The distinct hardness pressing into my leg told me he'd very much enjoyed it. I smiled and stepped back, playfully holding his tie then letting it fall through my hand as I walked away to grab one of the coffees.

He stood still, staring into space for a minute then slowly turned to look at me, his face a noticeable rouge. I'd crawled back into bed and was smiling innocently at him as he casually walked over, and with a steamy look, whipped the comforter off me. There was barely time for me to cover myself before he dragged me down the bed by my ankles and crawled between my legs.

I forgot to breathe when I felt his kisses inching up my inner thighs, one leg and then the other. I still had my shirt clasped in my fists and pulled tight in a vain attempt to hide myself from him.

“Show me.” he sang quietly.

I felt his hot breath across my knuckles, and hesitantly let go of the shirt. My heart raced, the warmth of his touch on my thighs and waist drove me wild. He placed his lips on mine and sucked gently, the aching warmth spread across my pelvis and I sighed. My heavy breathing became a gasp when his tongue slipped between my lips. It was an instrument with which he seemed to have great deal of experience, and once he'd made me moan his name he stopped, much to my chagrin. He straddled my waist, looking smug and licking his lips.

“Mmm, I should wear this all day.” He grinned then leaned down to kiss me as he stroked one of my flushed cheeks with his thumb. I whimpered when his tongue slid over mine and I could taste myself in his mouth. My hands searched for the buttons on his shirt and loosened his tie but he guided them away. After withdrawing from the kiss he rested his forehead on mine and regarded me for a moment, the smile slowly fading from his face , “I really do have to go now.” he whispered sadly, “I have to take care of some things at home.”

He climbed off me and I sat up to watch him gather the couple of items he'd brought with him. I knew why he had to go and that he couldn't stay here forever, but I still didn't want him to leave. I already missed him and he was right in front of me. He gave his pockets a final pat down to make sure he'd remembered everything.

 “Alright, I'll see you on Monday?” A hopeful chime in his voice.

“Monday it is.” I half smiled but was disappointed I wouldn't see him for the rest of the weekend. “Oh, I almost forgot..”

I went to my desk to grab a pen and a sticky note and quickly scrawled my mobile number out.

“Here.” Shyly pressing the square of paper into his palm.

His expression brightened upon reading it. He nodded with a smile and pulled me into one more passionate kiss. I hugged my arms around him, holding on, savoring those last moments. Then I watched him leave. The sound of the door closing to my lonely apartment was a final reminder that he was gone. I felt the weight of longing begin to fill my chest.

The flowers he'd bought for me were beautiful; I busied myself arranging them in the discarded rum bottle, for lack of a better flower-holding device. I began to think again about whether continuing what ever we'd started was a good idea. Dealing with emotions was not one of my strengths. I had avoided all relationships for so long that I wasn't even sure how to do them. He was so wonderful and I felt like a fraud, as though I'd tricked him into thinking I was a good person, and that was the only reason he'd pursued me. I was afraid he'd discover the truth and of all the pain that would follow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't leave more kudos and you want to, please leave comments! I love comments and they motivate me. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I think you'll like it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

It was Sunday evening and I had done my best to unsuccessfully distract myself from thoughts of Stephen. It had been the longest weekend ever once he'd left, but not in the least enjoyable. My students would be happy though, well _most_ of them, ignoring my thoughts meant I finished grading every assignment for all of my classes. I had been promising to hand them back for more than a week. My message tone startled me from the bored trance I was in as I browsed websites. I didn't have any friends so it was either Stephen, or I'd been handing my number out to strangers on Friday, a definite possibility.

 

_Is this Lana? Just testing out the thing_

_on the paper. Last time a woman gave_

_me her number I discovered I'd_

_texted many regrettable things to a_

_gentleman named Brad._

 

And a few seconds later..

 

_This is Stephen._

 

I giggled and immediately saved him in my phone. I had my concerns about the whole thing we were doing, but I couldn't deny the excitement I felt when I saw it was him.

 

_This isn't Brad, but I do know him_

_actually. I am pretty sure his is the_

_official decoy number for the state. The_

_amount of dick pics that man must get._

_Truly a hero._

 

After a couple of minutes I received a reply.

 

_One message in and already dick is_

_being thrown around like confetti._

_Shameful. Have you no empathy for_

_what was a traumatizing experience?_

 

I laughed again, reading the message as I relocated from my desk to the comfort of bed. I could imagine the exact dramatic way he would have delivered that line in person.

 

_It was callous, I apologize. Let's talk_

_about something else._

 

_How was the rest of your weekend? :)_

 

He took a longer time to respond to that message, I began to worry I'd offended him.

 

_That's hardly a better topic._

 

My anxiety overwhelmed me and I remembered how much I hated texting. It was bad enough for me interacting with people face to face, when all of their non-verbal language was visible, but this was some kind of torture. I was about to reply when another message came through.

 

_Tell me about yours instead._

 

I sighed with relief.

 

_Well, I spent a lot of time grading_

_papers after you left yesterday._

_Exciting right? Then today I did_

_something I haven't done for a while,_

_shopping.. for clothes._

 

I started to think about what he might be doing right now. Was he lying in bed as well? Was his wife there? I bristled at the idea. Just because he'd said they weren't together didn't mean she wasn't still there, or that they weren't still..

 

_An admirable dedication to duty, Miss_

_Woods. Did you enjoy your shopping_

_experience?_

 

It wasn't so long ago that when he used my first name it would make me blush, now when he was formal with me I blushed. Or perhaps it was the compliment, or just when he interacted with me at all.

 

_It was alright, I replaced some things_

_that desperately needed replacing._

 

_I see.._

 

What did that mean? There was no way to respond... unless. My pulse rose. I imagined the different ways he may have said it in person. One made the most sense to me, but it wasn't something I wanted to misinterpret. My thumbs hovered hesitantly over the keypad. God I hoped I didn't end up looking like a jackass.

 

_You see? Is that a statement or a poorly_

_constructed question, Mister Colbert?_

 

My body flooded with adrenaline as I scrunched my eyes closed and pressed send. It was too late to take it back now. I'd soon find out whether or not I had made the correct assumption.

 

_Are you suggesting that I want you_

_to send me pictures, Miss Woods?_

_That would be highly inappropriate._

_I'm a gentleman, remember?_

 

Oh, I had been _so_ right. Now my heart was galloping. My body reacted with pins and needles and a warmth that spread across me from my core. At the forefront of my thoughts was the memory of him between my legs yesterday.

 

_I don't actually. Remind me, at what_

_point were you a gentleman? Was it_

_when you kissed me at work?_

_Perhaps when you were ogling_

_my naked body? Or when you left me_

_unfinished and wanting you?_

 

I smirked and slid further down into bed, pulling the covers around me. I was a little proud of that reply, my eyes glued to my phone awaiting his.

 

_Unfinished? We can't have that._

 

I blushed.

 

_I mean I was, but I.. took care of it._

 

_How?_

 

He wanted to know _how_? My face didn't feel like it could become any more red at this point. I pulled the covers over my head and thought for a bit. We were really going to do this right now. I wasn't even sure I'd be able to look at him tomorrow after this conversation. I began with something coy.

 

_I have my ways, a little touching, a_

_little imagination. ;)_

 

_And what did you imagine I was_

_doing to you?_

 

_That is incredibly presumptuous of_

_you, Stephen._

 

_I believe the word you are looking_

_for is accurate._

 

I scoffed at the implication that _he_ was the only person on my mind, it didn't matter that he was absolutely right. A second message arrived.

 

_There were parts of this weekend I did_

_enjoy. For instance, when I got to be_

_alone and I could think about the taste_

_of your pussy._

 

I threw my phone across the bed and it landed face down in the covers, somewhere near my feet.

“Oh my God, he said that.”

I was very turned on, but also felt a sense of inadequacy. I couldn't do this, anything I said would never be as good as the things he came back with. I lay with my face buried in blankets and pillows for a while, blushing and desiring him and not sure what to say. The phone rang. I sat up and grabbed it from the foot of the bed, it was him of course, I was nervous to hear his voice or talk to him at all.

“Lana? Is everything okay?” his tone seductive, knowing.

“Yes,” I said quietly, “I just.. got distracted.”

“Mhmm,” that sensual sound reverberated through me, I fell back against the pillows, “and what distracted you?”

“I think you know.” Still quiet and shy.

“Yes, I think that I do. I'd like to hear you tell me.”

Oh God, he knew exactly what to say and hearing him now, I could tell that some of his enjoyment was gleaned from my awkwardness.

“It was.. the last text you sent.”

“Go on.”

“You said you were alone and thinking a-about the taste of my.. ” My voice faded, I couldn't.

“Hmm the same naughty lips that kissed my neck so fervently can't even say pussy. Interesting.” The smile in his voice, the way he drew his words out, had me biting my lip and writhing beneath the covers. “Actually, I'm thinking about your pussy right now.”

I gasped audibly into the phone.

“Oh, you like that?” He purred, “Tell me, where are you right now? What are you doing?”

My breath shook, I was worried I wouldn't seem sexy to him at all and he'd just hang up.

“I-I'm lying in bed..”

“Mhm.”

My body shivered.

“And every time you make that sound.. I.. I want to feel your lips against my ear, humming with pleasure when you.. when you take me.” My voice was barely a whisper but I managed to pace the words.

I heard him breathe roughly and it added to the ache between my legs.

“Do you want me to take you, Lana?” There was a desirous tremble in his voice now, though he was still much more confident than I.

I exhaled a whimpered “Yes.”

My free hand traveled down my body. I paused to gently squeeze and rub my breasts, then continued along my stomach until I reached between my legs to relieve some of the mounting pressure there.

“I'm at home in my office.” I tried to picture him, “I'm reclined in the chair at my desk, the top few buttons on my shirt are undone and so are my trousers.”

I was trying to suppress the urge to pant uncontrollably into the phone as he went on.

“You've been on my mind since I left you yesterday. Things have been _very_ hard.” I heard him smile, “I'm touching myself and thinking about the way you tasted, the way you sounded when I opened you with my tongue.”

I sighed with need, “What do you ..look like?”

He chuckled, “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, you're going to have to rephrase that.” His smooth tone both mocked my reluctance to talk dirty, and encouraged me at the same time.

"W-what does your..”

“Yes, ask it.” he reassured when my voice faded.

“What does your cock look like?”

I pictured him with his head rested back, eyes closed, taking himself with long, lazy strokes.

There was more rough breathing on the line before he answered, “Average length, but thick, and currently dripping precome over my fingers.” He drew out each word, that deep, dark voice dropping them into my ear one by one, “I think you'll like it.”

The implication had me wet and throbbing with a hunger agonizingly unfulfilled.

A whispered, “Fuck.” Was all I could muster in reply.

“Are you touching yourself now?” He purred, “You were so timid before and now you're going to come for me? I want to hear you.”

Jesus Christ he was sexy. I had given up not panting, I was sure he could hear my every ragged breath. His words, his voice, sent wave after wave of hot static across my skin. My body tensed and I could feel the potency of my orgasm building in endless layers. My hips rolled and back arched against the mattress as he continued.

“I want to hear those lips that couldn't say pussy, say my name. I like the way you say my name, Lana.”

I could barely hold the phone to my ear when he moved me to come. My head fell back, “I'll say it, I'll say it, Stephen, yes.” the words dripping out in an impassioned breathy moan. My body flinched and writhed with every pleasurable sensation that tore through me and centered on the rhythmic pulse of my sex. The cascade of feelings only intensified when I heard his grunt and stilted breathing as he also came.

I relaxed, flushed and exhausted, the phone still pressed to my ear. He was the first to speak.

“That was hot as hell, I.. uh.. I really needed that.” he sounded gentle, grateful. He must have meant it when he said his weekend wasn't a good topic of conversation.

“Yes.” I was coy again, he'd just heard me come and I was a little self conscious. “I think you're better at it though.”

“You wouldn't be saying that if you could see the mess I've made.”

“Where?” It slipped out before I could think and I clasped my hand over my mouth.

He chuckled softly, “Ready for round two are you?” I felt my face turn bright red, “Mostly over my hands, but.. uh also on my shirt.. and the floor.”

“That's a lot.” I whispered.

I wanted to listen to him talk all night and then into forever, but I could barely keep my eyes open and yawned into the phone.

“You're tired,” he said quietly, “I guess we should get some sleep.” It didn't sound like he wanted the call to end either, “I'll see you tomorrow, Lana.”

“I'll be there.” Finally hanging up with a contented smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? ;D


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

It'd been a long time since I hadn't relied on a little liquid courage to get me out of the house on a Monday, although I still had a stash in my bag just in case. I walked in to school feeling confident for a change, as though the world was at my feet. Those feet were enclosed in the new, shiny black pumps I'd bought on the weekend, along with the rest of my outfit. A knee length pencil skirt and a blouse that was cut low enough to be sexy but without being inappropriate. I thought I almost looked like a professional.

I had fussed over my appearance so much this morning that I was actually running a little late, checking the time on my phone and walking briskly through the halls.

“Good morning, Miss Woods. Checking messages are you?”

I blanched, Stephen was in front of me with a knowing smirk on his lips, and eyes glinting darkly from behind his glasses. He inspected me with a subtle sensuality that nearly made me forget where I was.

“Just the time,” a reply that revealed how he'd flustered me, “I.. I have to get to class.”

I nodded goodbye and continued past him, but could feel his inspection follow me down the hall. Though I found the attention incredibly arousing, I hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be for me to be around him after what we did the night before.

I walked into my room blushing and in my own world. I forgot the students were waiting for me, already seated, and when I turned to face them with mild surprise, I found similar expressions on them.

“Sorry I'm late.”

Ignoring their strange reaction, I placed my folders and bag on the desk and began to sort out what I needed for the class. One of the girls at the back of the room raised her hand.

“Yes?” I gestured without looking up from what I was doing.

“Miss.. you look nice.” I looked up at her and a few of the other students nodded, “Are you feeling okay?” There was some snickering at that remark.

I placed my hands on my hips and gave them all a playful disapproving glare, “Thank you, Jess. I _choose_ to take that as a compliment.”

 

*****

 

Fall was my favorite season. Outside the trees had turned many wonderful shades of gold and orange, the grounds were scattered with clusters of students and I watched quietly from the windows of my classroom.

“Eating alone again?”

Stephen's voice broke my silent reverie and I flinched with fright.

“Preferably.” Squinting over my shoulder before turning to lean against the wall so I could face him.

He moved into the room and sat on a desk that was near the door with his arms casually folded across his chest.

“What are you doing up here anyway, aren't you teaching this week?” I asked and took a bite of my sandwich.

There was a lot running through my head to do with our phone conversation, specifically the amount I now knew about his.. anatomy. I tried not to let myself linger on him for too long or it became difficult to concentrate.

“I am, but it's lunch break right now.” His lips curled into a smile and he adjusted his glasses.

“Well I know _that,_ ” muffled by a mouthful of food which I swallowed before I went on, “you just usually eat with the..”

“A break from routine, Miss Woods.” He interrupted softly.

I walked to the front of the room and picked up my lunch bag and then sat down at the desk next to the one he was sitting on. I held the remainder of my half a sandwich in my mouth and pulled the other half out of the bag.

“Here,” I held out the offering, trying not to blush when he looked down at me, “at least have this so I'm not the only one eating.”

“If that makes you more comfortable.” He moved into the chair and took the sandwich from me.

We didn't say much for the rest of the break, and as usual he didn't force a conversation, happy enough to just sit in silence with me.

 

*****

 

To make up for my lateness that morning, I had stayed into the evening but it was finally time to leave. As I was heading to the stairs I noticed a light on in the admin office area and made my way curiously towards it. I thought it may have been left on accidentally, but it was Stephen. I peeked at him from a distance through the blinds, he seemed to be engrossed in some paperwork that was spread across his desk. I wondered for a minute whether I should disturb him, he looked busy.

“Working late?”

This time it was his turn to be startled, and I was a little pleased to have had my revenge. He looked stressed at first, but his face softened almost immediately and he beckoned me inside. I took a couple of steps in and closed the door behind me, although I wasn't sure why, there was no one else here.

“You can sit down if you want.” he gestured at the chairs opposite his desk.

“Oh, I won't stay, I don't want to intrude. I just thought someone had left a light on down here.”

He sighed, “To be honest, I can't even think about this stuff right now.” Gathering the papers into a neat pile and then reaching for something in one of his desk draws. “Alright, get it out.”

I was confused until he placed two glasses in front of him and eyed me intently.

“Don't you hold out on me.” he added, raising a brow.

I pulled the flask out of my bag and handed it to him, watching as he divvied the contents out. I put my bag and folders down on a chair while he walked over to hand me one of the glasses. The situation reminded me of the last time I was alone in an office with him, only now it was more intimate.

 There was a void of silence I felt the urge to fill, “Should we toast to something?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “how about, to the beautiful and capricious nature of life.”

I held up my glass and dipped my head in agreement, returning his smile as I sipped some of the liquor. He downed the whole lot at once and placed his glass back on the desk. The way he was staring at me I could only describe as like being slowly undressed. I felt my body flush with heat, taking another sip and then placing my glass down as well.

He touched my cheek with the back of his fingers, which then glided down the side of my neck and gave me chills.

“You've been walking around in front of me, dressed in this sexy outfit all day.” He whispered, my heart thudded intrusively, “These are the clothes you bought?”

“Some of them.” I replied softly.

“It's been ..distracting, in a good way.”

His fingers now played with the neckline of my blouse.

“I like them, I bought them for me but.. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have you in mind as well when I picked them out.” My voice quivered.

One by one, he began to very slowly undo the buttons on my top, pausing at each to caress the newly revealed skin. His eyes kept flicking up to check if I was comfortable with what he was doing. My mind reeled with every teasing touch. I felt like my legs might give out on me any minute, but I remained still, silently watching him indulge his lustful curiosity. There was no part of me that wanted him to stop.

The bottom of the blouse was tucked into my skirt and he pulled it out, undoing the last few buttons so now it hung open. With two fingers he carefully moved it out of the way, one side then the other. He was methodical, taking his time and relishing every new visual. He watched my chest rise and fall; my breath was deep, controlled but nervous.

The same hand that opened my blouse now held and gently squeezed each lace covered breast. His fingertips played with the fabric and followed the edge, running across the skin just above the cup, all the way to the middle of my chest.

“This is new.” A finger placed on the small bow that was on the bra between my breasts. His eyes met mine and I nodded.

“Some things _were_ just for you.” I replied sheepishly.

He must have liked that because in a blink I felt his hands move across my waist and up my back to draw me roughly against him. We were tangled in a frenzied kiss, pulling at each other's lips, catching our breath where we could so that we wouldn't have to stop. My every impulse was to have him naked, on me and inside me. I wanted to be enveloped in the warmth of his bare skin pressed to mine.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Office sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I forced this out through writer's block so while I _hope_ that it's good, I can't guarantee it.))
> 
>  
> 
> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

This time he didn't stop me when I loosened his tie and began to nervously open his shirt; a task made more difficult when neither of us wanted to leave the other's mouth for too long. He untucked it for me and I finished the unbuttoning so it fell open like mine. I was enamored of the way the desk lamp cast soft light and shadow across him. I wanted him all at once and tormentingly slow at the same time. With flushed cheeks and pounding heart, I let my shaking fingers brush through the dusting of hair on his chest. When he pulled me into him again, the shock of heat of our bodies meeting skin to skin made me sigh against his waiting lips. There was a wild glimmer in his eyes brimming with the exhilaration of giving in to every desire he'd been holding back.

His hand caught my hair and he pulled my head back so that my neck and chest were exposed to him. He kissed me slowly from my chin to my collar bone, there wasn't an inch of my neck he didn't cover. I released a quiet moan when he gently bit at the top of my breasts; his hands wandering over my shoulders to push my blouse off. His lips returned to mine to pull more kisses from me, lustful and breathless. I wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other slipped beneath his shirt and over his shoulder, scratching lightly. At the same time I felt his hands move down my back, he grabbed my ass firmly before I felt the skirt loosen around my waist. He smiled against my mouth as he slowly pushed it over my hips until it fell to the floor. If he was nervous it didn't show, he seemed as confident as he had been on the phone last night.

“Holy shit.” His lustful growl cut through the silence.

He held me at arm's length, admiring the matching panties and thigh-high stockings I was wearing. The slow journey of his molten gaze down my exposed body left me self conscious. I shifted awkwardly and attempted to cover myself with my arms. Such a close inspection would reveal to him all the things that were wrong with me, I didn't want him to see and very much wished the light was off.

“Hey,” a soft whisper, comforting, “no need to to be shy, you're beautiful.”

I let him guide my arms out of the way and he moved towards me again. I shivered at the touch of his hands on my body as he grabbed and rubbed the newly exposed flesh. I could feel his hardness pressed into my waist. He must have been so uncomfortable all bound up in those pants and I was eager to help him out of them. His lips and tongue played softly with mine while my hands worked to undo his belt and trousers, all the while he walked me backwards until I bumped into the desk. He hummed against my mouth, I'd felt my way into his pants and begun to rub my hand firmly along his hardened length, still restrained in his briefs. The sounds he made, the way he moved and reacted to my teasing, he was sexy and I wanted him.

He was leaning against the desk top with one hand, the other held my neck while we kissed. I felt his fingertips brush my chest and roughly grope my breasts. He dug into my bra groaning when the soft flesh filled his hand, my nipple moved over his palm before he rolled it lightly in his fingers and I whimpered into his mouth. He moved between my legs, rubbing my inner thighs and then moving higher.

“You're _very_ wet.” He purred, smiling against my lips, his fingers stroking the crotch of my panties.

“Your fault.” I whispered back, flinching and sighing under his touch.

My hands tingled as I pulled the waist band of his briefs down. Fingers tentatively curled around his smooth, hot length for the first time. My thoughts drifted to our phone conversation, he really was thick. We both exhaled elated sighs, foreheads together and faces flushed, our eyes locked intently on one another as we played. There was a new urgency that followed. He guided me to sit on the desk, standing between my legs and pulling my breasts out with his free hand so they rested over my bra. Between lustful grunts his lips left mine to slide wet kisses and bites down my neck and chest and shoulders.

“I've wanted you for so long.” his quiet words trembling with anticipation.

I gasped when I felt his fingers move my panties to the side, lightly brushing the sensitive skin. He was watching me again and my reactions seemed to drive him forward. My arms snaked around his neck and shoulders as he pulled the wetness from me and slipped it over the folds of my sex. I moaned softly, leaning in to try and kiss him but he withdrew, teasing me with his lips just barely touching mine. He shifted and I felt his fingers replaced with the blunt heat of his cock pressed against me. The breath caught in my throat, I was certain I must have had a look of pleading on my face. His mouth pressed to mine, muffling my cries and his own pleasured groans as he slowly entered me. I felt his fingers flex and grip my thigh and waist, drawing me toward him.

We were flushed, overcome with need; our kisses, deep and slow, matched the rhythm of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around his waist, moaning as his pace quickened and his hold on me tightened. He broke from my lips and buried his face in my neck. Goosebumps rippled across my body when his hot breath met my skin with a trickle of whispered slurs and dirty phrases. I moaned again, God he felt so good.

“I knew you'd like it.” He panted quietly, then I felt his lips against my ear, “Couldn't say pussy on the phone, but will fuck me on my desk at work. You're a mystery and a tease, Miss Woods.” His voice a ragged growl.

I cried out his name when he pressed himself into me as deep as he could. His teeth caught my lips and his hand left my leg for a minute to grope at my breasts. He was still mostly clothed except that his shirt and pants were open, there was something about it I found particularly arousing. Maybe it was the cold metal of buckles and zippers against my legs, or the way his chest – nearly dripping with sweat – glistened attractively in the lamp light. There was an intensity to the sex, we both knew this was not something we should be doing at work which only made it hotter.

I trailed a finger down his body, pausing to play with the hair on his chest and stomach and grab at his waist as he thrust in me. He glanced down curiously to watch my hand move from his stomach to between my legs where I began to touch myself. He met my eyes again with a lustful grunt, moving forward to encourage me to lay across the desk. He lifted my legs so they rested against his chest and his hands shifted to clasp my hip and press on my stomach. His eyes glinted darkly down at me, he was so sexy and I could feel myself building to a peak.

“Come for me.”

And I did. While his whispered words urged me on, a rolling wave of fire spread across my stomach and waist. My fingers working at a feverish pace until I felt his hand slide from my hip and up my leg. I gasped at the sensation as euphoria washed over me, back arched, my walls tightening deliciously around him. I writhed on the desk, flexing and grasping helplessly at the surface and repeating his name. His fingers were digging hard into my leg and stomach but I didn't care, I liked it, I wanted it. He came moments later, head back, finishing inside me with a groan and a few rough thrusts. I looked up at him, clammy, panting, my body still thrumming pleasantly.

He moved my legs off his chest, leaning over me to place gentle kisses on my stomach and breasts before laying himself against me. The way he was looking at me was indescribable, the same way he'd looked at me on the front steps the night of the school dance. All I knew for sure was that I'd never experienced it before, and for me, that unknown was a frightening prospect. I reached down to touch his face and run my hand through his sweaty, matted hair.

He grinned, “If only you knew the hours of sleep I've lost and work I haven't done because I've been imagining you exactly like that.” his voice a playful purr.

“Oh my God!” I blushed and covered my face with my hands.

“Relax,” he chuckled, pulling my hands away, “you're even better in person.”

I really wanted to hide again but he pinned my wrists, crawling onto the desk and over me so that his face was only inches from mine. The kiss that followed was slow and hot, our tongues and lips mingling in a slippery dance, teeth grazing flesh to the sound of soft moans and sighs. When he finally withdrew that look was there again, unnerving as it was unreadable and addictive. I didn't want this to end.

“We should probably...clean up.” My voice a reluctant whisper.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There was acknowledgement in his face but also something else, regret perhaps._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

What started as an activity that was supposed to take place strictly outside of school hours, began to creep ever more daringly into our work day. It was small things at first, the sensual glances when he would pass my classroom, purposefully brushing past me in the staff room and letting his hand linger on my waist or slide subtly up my leg.

Then one day he pulled me into an alcove in a deserted hall between classes; his hand across my mouth muffled my surprised squeak. Pressed against him, I could feel his nerves and excitement in the rapid rise and fall of his chest. I saw the flush in his face and the lustful glint in his eyes for a split second before he kissed me. His body pinned me to the wall and he held my neck with one hand while the other slid down to lift my leg and guide it around his waist, his fingers gripping my thigh. He licked and nipped along my jaw before my neck was met with a flurry of passionate bites and kisses. I squirmed beneath him and when I moaned softly, he cupped his hand over my mouth again.

There was a burning question on my mind that was a source of concern for me and remained unanswered. What was this? We were playing a reckless game that put both of our careers at risk, but to what end? I certainly had my reservations about forming a relationship, but far from anything like that seemed to be happening anyway. I was instead beginning to feel like a fuck toy. I had stupidly developed a significant emotional investment in him and now I had to consider pulling the pin on the whole thing. My chest felt full and heavy at the thought; perhaps that pain would be a lesson for the future.

I walked into Stephen's office that evening, my entrance was brisk and seemed to startle him because he stood immediately. The door clicked shut behind me. I stared at him and he at me, the look of concern on his face grew the longer I was silent, and yet I couldn't bring myself to speak.

“Lana, what is it?”

His soft, worried tone broke me and I could only watch as he slowly walked out from behind his desk. This wasn't going to be like our usual rendezvous; there was obviously a problem and he was respectful of that. When his fingers brushed my cheek, I couldn't stop the tears that welled then rolled, fat and wet, down my face. He pulled me in and held me, kissed my head but didn't push for me to talk. I would when I was ready, he knew that.

He _knew_ that.

There was a lot he knew about me and he had not tried to change one thing. He was patient and kind, a good man. I began to second guess myself, my face buried in his shoulder as more silent tears fell and were absorbed by his jacket. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I was being ungrateful.

He began to talk in hushed tones, casting around for things that might be bothering me, his comforting arms still wrapped around my shoulders.

“Things can be stressful this time of year, work can pile up quickly. Are you feeling overwhelmed?”

I shook my head without lifting it, so he went on.

“What about your students, how are they? Or parents? If someone is bothering you, you know you can talk to me. I want you to, I mean we're..”

His voice drifted to silence and my body tensed within his embrace. He stepped back to arm's length, hands rested on my shoulders. I looked up at him as he regarded me, my eyes were bleary and sore, I was sure I looked a mess.

“We're what?” I whispered tentatively, “Sleeping together?”

There was acknowledgement in his face but also something else, regret perhaps. I couldn't tell, but felt my stomach clench with anxiety when I saw it.

“I just..” it was hard to breathe, “I don't know what this is. I thought you wanted more, but then all we do is..” I trailed off, looked down. “I know you're.. going through some stuff, but I'm not just a warm body for you to use.” I was so afraid of how deeply attached I had become to this man, every word I spoke tore me apart. I wanted to run.

“No, God, Lana.. that's not..”

He lifted my chin and wiped the salty streaks from under my eyes with the pad of his thumb.

“It's fine, I get it.” I faked a smile, blinking back the tears that threatened to flow, “Maybe we just had unrealistic expectations of one another,” I attempted to reason, give him an out “or the timing was wrong and things haven't worked out the way we hoped, but.. I can't keep..”

I choked, my throat was tight. I'd said enough. Before I could utterly fall apart I took his hand from my face, squeezed it gently, and once more kissed his soft lips. I couldn't bare to look at him, I knew what I would see and I didn't want that expression of confused devastation burnt in my memory. I walked out.

Out of his office, out of the school, out of his life.

My face was soaked and freezing as it met the frigid evening air. I touched my lips, the warmth and taste of his still hung there. I needed to believe this crushing torment was for the greater good, that it was the right thing to do for us both.

Everything was moving in slow motion as I flopped into my car and turned the heat on. I rested my head on the steering wheel, immobilized by thick, heaving sobs that felt as though they would never stop. I wanted him here, I wanted his arms around me, I wanted his voice in my ear whispering comforting words. Why hadn't he followed me? But I knew why, and there was a tiny glimmer of rationality within me that was glad he hadn't.

 

*****

 

I decided to deal with this emotional crisis the same way I dealt with every other uncomfortable, devastating or heartbreaking situation I encountered in my life – avoidance, suppression and self medication.

Autumn had turned to Winter and it was the time of year when catching the flu was feasible, so I took the following week off “sick”. Sure, it would suck if I actually _did_ get the flu later in the season, but thinking ahead wasn't my top priority. I drank and sat alone in the cold and the dark, trying to forget about _him_. His beautiful smile, his dark eyes, his gentle touch, it all had to go. I developed a routine of crying and yelling into the emptiness until exhaustion forced me to sleep. The days and nights drifted and mingled together, and I let them slip away.

My phone rang, vibrating irritatingly and pulling me from my dreamless refuge. I'd ignored it for ... well I didn't know how long, but I hadn't answered the thing since I'd been home. I begrudgingly got out of bed wrapped in blankets, and sat at my desk. The call stopped. I picked up the phone to see who it had been when a text came through. It was Stephen, I felt sick.

 

_Where were you today? Your sick_

_leave ended, you were supposed to_

_come in._

 

I checked the time with an arrogant huff, as though the people actually living and functioning in the world must have got it wrong. _5pm, Monday_ my phone read in a taunting glow. I threw it on the desk and went back to bed. Curled up in a cocoon of blankets and cradled by the soft mattress, I hugged my knees tightly. The familiar ache in my chest pushed tears from my eyes again when I thought about going back tomorrow. I wasn't ready, how could I ever be? All I'd done was add to my burden.

The phone buzzed on my desk, my stomach lurched. It was another message but I ignored it, head buried in my knees. This was too much.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't make me leave you like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.
> 
>  
> 
> I've been listening to [Here is Gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLfVK4NAUXg) by the Goo Goo Dolls _a lot_ while writing these last two of chapters.

I was startled by a loud knock on my door, I must have drifted off. I didn't move, I wasn't going to answer it. A minute or so later it happened again, except louder and more urgent. Perhaps I'd drunkenly ordered food. I grumbled and got up, idling over to the door where the knocking began again, though now it sounded more like a full-fisted thumping.

“Alright, alright, I'm coming.” I croaked

After a week of solid crying and yelling, my voice sounded rough, I could probably even pass as a person who had _actually_ been sick. I fiddled with the deadbolt in a groggy haze and finally pulled the door open, wallet in hand, expecting to see a slightly annoyed food delivery guy.

The look on Stephen's face shifted from concerned to mortified once he registered the state I was in. God only knew what I looked like, self care had not been part of my routine.

“ _You!?_ ” My voice a shocked whisper.

I quickly tried to slam the door. I didn't want to see him and I didn't want him to see me, especially like this. He braced himself against it, easily resisting me as I pushed with everything I had. My eyes welled with frustration at my ever weakening attempts to shut him out, finally slumping to the floor in defeat.

He shuffled silently inside and closed the door behind him, but I didn't look up. He was in front of me, I stared blankly at his trousers and shoes with a furrowed brow, willing him to leave.

“I wanted to give you space,” he said gently, his words laced with suppressed sorrow, “but I also refuse to leave things so.. unresolved.” That voice was a sound I'd almost forgotten, and when the hair on the back of my neck bristled pleasantly, I wished it had stayed forgotten.

I said nothing, but shivered where I sat on the polished concrete floor. His feet paced away a few steps over to my bed and came back. A blanket was wrapped tenderly around my shoulders, then he was crouched in front of me. My eyes darted up to look at his face, despite my best effort to avoid doing so. He was half smiling, though the same thread of pain I heard in his voice, I also saw in his expression.

“I guess you didn't get my message?”

I looked over at my desk and back to him; it must have been the one I didn't check. I shook my head.

“That was lucky I suppose, you might not have opened the door at all.”

He was smiling, _actually_ smiling at me. Beautiful and bright and in an instant, the undoing of all I'd tried to achieve that week.

“Please stop, Stephen,” I wavered on the verge of tears, “you shouldn't be here.”

His smile faded, “Y-you can't think I'm just going to leave you like this?”

It seemed to be a question but the tone was closer to _“please, don't make me leave you like this.”_ He wasn't crying openly but his eyes were glassy and full, I'd never seen that and I instantly hated it. His suffering hung like a weight on my heart. In my mind I saw myself reaching out to hold him, felt the love in his arms around me.. but I didn't move, didn't say a word, just stared at him.

He stood up silently, I thought he was going to leave and that weight in my chest pulled awkwardly. In a moment of panic I grabbed his pant leg.

“Don't...” barely a whisper, almost just an exhaled breath.

I knew he'd looked down, I could feel him watching me, but I was staring intently at my hand. How quickly it had moved. My fist tightened around the cloth. I thought I must have looked foolish; why was I always so fucking indecisive? I hadn't wanted to see him, but now that he was here I was afraid that he would leave. He stooped again, I watched his hand tentatively cup mine, the gentle caress of his fingers encouraged me to release him. Both his hands then held my one and he brought it to his lips.

“I won't,” his face as soft as his voice, “I was just going to turn a light on.”

I squeezed his hand gratefully and saw the corners of his mouth twitch into the smallest smile. He let go and tucked the blanket back around me, then went to turn the bedside lamp on. It cut through the gloom like a knife and revealed the full extent of my week alone. Strewn about the apartment were discarded empty liquor bottles, used tissues, dirty clothes and dishes. I shrunk shamefully against the wall, if only I could have disappeared through it. The place was an unkempt disaster, I was sure he would walk out in disgust. The tears I'd held back ran down my cheeks.

“Fucking hell..” he whispered, sweeping his fingers through his hair as he carefully surveyed the scene.

“I know, okay?” I sobbed, “I don't need you judging me on top of..”

“I'm _not_ judging you. Jesus Christ, Lana, I'm worried about you.” His tone was concerned but abrasive, “How? How could you just walk away without..” he stopped when I recoiled slightly and held up his hands apologetically. After a calming breath he continued, but still strained to hold back his emotion, “I don't want to lose you, and I just can't fathom the idea that I might have already.”

The longing in his face and in his voice was too much. I thought I had done the right thing, but now I questioned my decision.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, “What do you want from me, Stephen?”

He took the tissue box from my bedside table and crawled towards me on his hands and knees, “A chance.”

He slid the box over first and let me wipe my face dry. My skin felt raw and painful. When I was done he moved the box aside and with a look, asked whether he could come closer. I squinted in thought for a moment and nodded. I told myself his presence wasn't comforting, that I wasn't warmed when he curled himself around me, that I'd never missed his breath on my skin. He touched my neck, my cheek, his thumb brushed my lips tenderly and I was completely lost.

“You're freezing, you don't want to move to the bed?”

I shook my head and nestled against him, fully aware that we had reached the part I most dreaded, the conversation. My head rested on his chest and I felt him take a steadying breath. I bristled with anxiety.

“You weren't entirely wrong.” His voice quiet and remorseful, “I have been coming to you for sex, because sex with you has been.. relief.” I felt his hands tighten and relax where they rested on me. “Perfect, amazing, addictive relief.” He added in a seductive purr, it made me blush and I was glad he couldn't see my face. “But.. I know I've been somewhat emotionally absent. I left you to drift and then didn't consider that you might feel.. used.” He stroked my hair, “God, _a warm body_..”

He emphasised with disgust, the phrasing I'd used a week earlier. I cringed at the thought that he might be about to launch into an abusive tirade and shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

“It's not that I thought the sex was meaningless, it's just that's all there was.” My quiet words disappeared into the blankets.

He didn't reply for a long while; I told myself he was figuring out how to best broach the subject. Even so, the waiting made me ill.

“I will take responsibility for using sex with you as an emotional crutch, it was thoughtless and I am sorry..”

I tensed at the looming _“but”_.

“But, _“that's all there was”_? You haven't exactly been forthcoming with what you want, in fact you don't even seem to know. How was I supposed to approach that?”

He wasn't attacking me; quite the contrary, he was being calm and reasonable, but it still felt like a punch in the gut. My hands balled fistfuls of blanket as I fumed, defensive and irrational. He was right and I didn't want him to be, I wanted him to shut up. Then, as though he knew how I'd react, he wrapped me firmly in his arms, with his chin rested on top of my head until I began to relax.

“You've resisted forming even basic connections with _anyone_ since you started this job. I didn't want to jeopardize what we had by asking for more than you were ready to give.” His arms slipped away and I sat up to face him, “I'd already made mistakes so I wanted to be considerate, but then I wasn't doing enough?”

I dropped my gaze to avoid admiring how handsome he looked cast in the dim golden lamp light, but he tilted his head to follow my line of sight.

“I can't win, Lana.. or you don't want me to.”

My eyes flicked up to meet his, “You're right,” I began softly, “I _don't_ want you to, and you shouldn't want to either. It's not what's best, can't you see that? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a good person to be around,” I frowned, gesturing at my apocalyptic apartment, “and I... I can't be someone's mistake again.”

At this he seemed to express concern or confusion, but I went on.

“I didn't mean to fall for you, I tried not to, but how could I resist? You pursued me, or at least the idea you had of me, so.. eagerly .” My face flushed, “It was flattering, overwhelming.”

I sat up straight and looked him dead in the eye, I could feel the fullness in my chest and the tears building anew, “Stephen, whoever you think I am, whatever idealistic expectations you have of me.. I promise, you're wrong.”

Stephen shook his head, the same bewildered look still on his face, “Where have you got this notion that I'm idealizing you?” He sighed “There's plenty I don't know about you yet, but I do know that for whatever reason, you're afraid. You've built a fortress of aloofness and bad habits, but that's not who you are.”

His eyes were soft and dark, watching me in that unreadable, breathtaking way that I adored as much as I feared. He reached towards me and I flinched before his fingers delicately brushed the stray strands of hair from my face. The feather touch of his fingertips set my heart racing.

“You're very adept at keeping everyone away, but Lana, I don't want to be away from you.” A hopeful smile accompanying his loving tone.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Context and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

I wasn't a very open person even in the earliest days I can remember. I lacked a lot of the skills that are the foundational building blocks for healthy relationships, platonic _or_ romantic. There was something different that seemed to separate me from others; it was like being surrounded by a barrier that allowed me near them, but never in a meaningful way. I was an oddity meant for ridicule rather than someone to be embraced. Even so, I did the best I could.

To begin with I at least had some hope, and optimism, and trust to give; all eroded to nothing. People lied to me, they told me they understood, and that the way I was didn't bother them. They always made themselves out to be the ones who would be different, the ones who would stay, but they never were. I wanted to be better, I wanted to keep them around, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't change the way I was. Those people with their false promises would become frustrated, some more quickly than others, but they all gave up eventually. I think the worst part was being aware that it was happening even when _they_ weren't. Helpless to change anything, I was forced to watch those relationships slip away with the knowledge that it was my fault. I would end up alone, each time a little more walled off from the world.

Then I placed my trust in a man; the last straw.

I was in a romantic relationship with him for many years, my first. His promises meant more than any I'd heard before. I didn't realize what was happening at first. My isolation was a weakness that he effectively exploited. The way he talked to me began to change; he was belittling, judgemental. I was often humiliated by him in public because I'd done something wrong, but he said he would help me, that he would make me better, so I needed him. He wanted things from me, certain liberties within the relationship. It wasn't okay, it didn't feel okay to me, but whenever I brought it up he told me I should be comfortable because he cared about me. After a while I thought he must be right, I was being ungrateful. What I felt didn't matter, it was all in my head and nothing was wrong.

He loved me.

When we fought, his words would twist and turn in ways that made it impossible for me to please him. I would wake up each day, heart pounding with panic. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I could not tiptoe across those eggshells lightly enough. There was always something I did that would make him hate me. I couldn't do anything right. He would yell and accuse, blame and berate; he was jealous and mistrustful. He hated me so much, but I convinced myself it was only in that moment, that it would pass, and it did. There was always tomorrow, it would be better tomorrow.

We drank together, and we would drink too much until bickering became an argument; the worst of us on display. Old wounds, bitter and unresolved, were torn open and the salt rubbed deep. His voice was so loud. Grinding, stamping, forcing me into the dirt where I belonged. His vile words were punctuated with frightening displays of physical aggression. Holes in doors and walls were constantly patched. Even our fridge, dented with deep fist marks was an ever-present reminder of my faults and failures. There was a tiny part of me that knew this should be over, but I was weak, I couldn't end it. Blind, stubborn commitment to a festering relationship of unhealthy co-dependence, fear and abuse.

But it would be better tomorrow.

I knew he loved me, even as I endured the sting of his hand landing, open-palmed, across my face for the first time.

Even when palm became fists, and fists became feet.

I was finally home then because that's where dirt belongs; under foot, walked on and kicked until it's scattered beyond all hope of redemption.

He loved me, but then he left like all the others, another promise unfulfilled. It was my fault, I was a burden to be around and I'd changed him for the worse, I knew that. He was too good for me, he said he'd tried so hard but I was holding him back, it had been a mistake to stay. I just hadn't done enough to be a better person for him, to twist and mangle and contort myself into the broken husk he wanted me to be. But I _was_ broken. _A mistake_. Alone with my scars, and my bruises, and emotional torment. Memories like circling sharks that constantly threatened to surface. He'd left me like all the others, only not.

 

*****

 

I watched Stephen dig tirelessly, without knowing how deep I was buried or the damage I might do when he found me. _When_ , because nothing I did was driving him away. But I knew better, the truth of what he'd find was filled with disappointment and regret. He would leave anyway, so best he leave now. I eyed him distrustfully.

“I.. I have to be at work tomorrow so, I should get ready. It's probably late, right?”

He seemed crestfallen by my response and my heart ached, I looked away as he checked his watch.

“It is,” he replied softly.

This time when he stood I knew it was to leave, and that was okay. I stood too, still huddled in the blanket. He wrapped his arms around my cocoon of warmth and kissed my forehead. He wanted me to say more, I could sense him lingering but I remained quiet and he finally let me go with a disappointed half smile.

He opened the door and crossed the threshold into the hall outside, but before closing it he paused then turned to look at me. The indecisive expression he was wearing quickly shifted to resolute.

“Lana, you've been pushing me away, yes, but not hard. If you'd wanted me to stop pursuing you then why not just tell me outright? And I _know_ you know you haven't done that,” he squinted at me and smirked playfully, “I'd even say you've _avoided_ it.”

I frowned and was about to launch into a defensive reprisal but he cut me off.

“Just know, I wouldn't be going into this without emotional baggage either.” I saw him rub his ring finger, now bare, “What ever you've been through, and no matter who you think you are, I'll be with you because that's where I _want_ to be. We can figure it out together.”

He gave me a heart-stopping smile and his eyes seemed to be alight with enthusiasm again, “I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Woods.”

As hard as I tried to remain steely, I couldn't stop the heat that rushed to my face or my lips curling at the corners. I nodded once and then he was gone, the door closing with a quiet click behind him.

Before I sorted myself out I decided I needed to clean my apartment. I didn't really care if I was up all night at this point. I felt weirdly energetic. There was something alive in me that hadn't been there for a long time. The smallest flicker of a flame I thought had been permanently extinguished, until I saw it in Stephen's eyes and in his smile.

Hope.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'll see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

When I returned to work I got the lovey-dovey treatment, staff and students asking if I was feeling better. I was skeptical about whether their inquiries were entirely altruistic or perhaps more self preservation. But of course I hadn't really been sick at all. The times I would see Stephen around I noticed something was different. He wasn't ignoring me but there was certainly distance, he would nod or smile in greeting but didn't stop. That wasn't what I'd expected after the conversation we'd had; it began to sting every time I passed him, and I felt my tiny flame of hope waver dangerously. No, I wasn't allowed to be bitter or angry, how was that fair? This was what I'd wanted all along. The situation was probably clearer to him after sleeping on it, and he'd decided this was best. It's not like he'd made a promise to me, not _really_ , we were just.. talking, wrapping everything up I guess. This was fine, or it would be in time.

By Friday I was ignoring the ache in my chest more easily, I just hated that it was there at all. I hated that I missed risky make-out sessions between classes, the seductive comments disguised in innocuity, or even his silent company at lunch. None of that had happened since our talk, he'd barely said a word to me. I'd had some shitty weeks at this job so far, but this topped them all. Painfully slow and painfully painful all at once. I was looking forward to two days of freedom; it would be a blessing not to see his handsome fucking face.

The final bell rang for the day and I dismissed my students, a few of them stopped to ask questions on their way out while I gathered my things together; then I was alone. Winter's dim afternoon light filtered through the windows, cast across the old wooden desks and illuminating flurries of disturbed dust; it gave the room a pleasant cinematic quality. I admired the peaceful scene with great satisfaction as I slipped on my overcoat. There was something about it that comforted me, and I just knew everything was going to be okay.

“Beautiful.”

I jumped, his voice was almost foreign to me, as was his presence, and yet there he was–leaned casually against the door frame, arms folded in his usual way–like it was nothing. There was a bottleneck of emotions all trying to force themselves out at once until I became aware of the way he was looking at me. Lips curved into a smile and eyes, filled with excitement, glinting from behind his glasses as he inspected me from head to toe. My heart did a back flip which I concealed from my expression. I went back to putting the last few things I needed in my bag.

“Haven't seen much of you around this week,” doing my best feign indifference.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Miss Woods,” he smiled.

I shot him a withering glare, “Is _that_ why you've been avoidin..”

“No!” he interrupted, “I've just been busy this week. You were away, remember? _And_ you haven't been the only one, _and_ it's getting close to the end of term..” counting dramatically on his fingers as his smile became a chuckle.

He was _laughing_ at me _,_ I continued to glare. His chuckle returned to a gentle smile but he was otherwise unaffected by my ocular assault. He watched me quietly–eyes still brimming with excitement–while I grabbed my bag with an indignant pout and slung it across my shoulder. When he saw I was about to leave he stood up in the doorway and put his hands in his pockets.

“Come with me.”

I hesitated, squinting at him suspiciously. His cavalier attitude had stung. Didn't he know I was upset? Didn't he know what an awful week this had been for me? Didn't he..? My angry thoughts came to an abrupt halt. No _of course not_ , how would he? The hesitation and suspicion I felt shifted to sheepishness and I nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

He half turned to me as I followed him down the hall, “You have to learn to talk to me,” he said softly.

I blanched but didn't look at him or reply.

“Did you _really_ think I'd been avoiding you on purpose?”

My eyes dropped shamefully.

“And you've been holding on to that _all week_? Lana..” he sighed.

“Exasperation is a common side effect of being around me.” I quipped softly.

He turned in mock surprise, hand on his chest, “Lana Woods, was that a joke!?” he beamed at me.

I met his brilliant smile with my own coy smirk before we stopped outside his classroom. I glanced around the hall and then back to him, my curiosity peaked. He reached for the door handle that was at my side, I enjoyed how close he was, the scent of his cologne curling around me in delightful wisps. Warmth flooded my face at the look of complete adoration in his eyes, I was suddenly nervous. He opened the door and bowed his head, politely allowing me through first.

I was taken aback as I slowly entered the room. In one corner by the windows, there was wine and candles, an assortment of tempting looking treats arranged neatly on a platter, it was even decorated in cozy Autumn themed colors. I stared dumbfounded at it's thoughtful beauty.

“It's Fall you like isn't it?” I heard him ask softly from behind me, a hint of anxiety in his voice.

I turned back to him with a reassuring smile as he closed the door and took a couple of tentative steps forward.

“I just.. noticed when you would look out the window, you seemed deeply content all season,” he gave a modest smile. “You don't look outside as much now,” he added quietly.

I had to blink back tears. I was profoundly touched that he'd done all this for me and then to have picked up on something so subtle, something I'd never mentioned but that he had simply observed. I was lost for words. He took my hand and walked me over to his little set-up with childlike enthusiasm, beaming as he poured the wine and offered for me to try whatever I liked.

We were bathed in candlelight as the sun set. Wine-warmed, engrossed in one another's company and quiet conversation; in the midst of this Stephen checked his watch.

“Hm, we shouldn't have _too_ much.”

He looked back up at me, the flickering flames that surrounded us were glinting in his eyes.

I gave him a quizzical glance, “Why not?” I said through a mouthful of chocolate-coated strawberry, then defiantly shoved in a second.

He laughed and I smiled at his laughter, I was sure the wine must be the reason I felt so happy; I was a lightweight despite my.. problem.

“Because we're going to dinner,” he said casually, immediately picking up his glass and sipping from it.

 

*****

 

Later we found ourselves at his house. I had been apprehensive at first, not knowing the status of his current living arrangement.

“Are you sure? I mean I don't want to be a problem or anything.. Maybe we could go back to mine? I know it's shit but..” I rambled at him in the back of the cab.

We'd had a fair bit of wine by this point, I was chatting anxiously but he didn't appear bothered at all, smiling and listening and watching me talk. I felt his hand around the back of my neck, then lips moving over mine, pulling lightly and his tongue for a brief moment. He withdrew a few inches from my face, still smiling, thumb brushing my cheek. I was flushed, I wanted more but he had a better sense of awareness than me and did not want to give the cab driver a show.

“My wife..” he blanched and shook his head, “Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, she moved out, so there's not going to be any awkward meetings or anything.” Another tender kiss was placed on my lips, “Besides, I would never put you in a situation like that,” he added in a whisper.

It was modest–though far more than I had–a single storey house in the suburbs and not too far from the school. I had a subtle peek around as he lead me through, trying to get a feel for the layout. I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw his office. He had stopped and was watching me.

“You okay?”

I recovered, red faced and trying desperately not to think of _that_ phone call.

“Yes.. yes, just the wine.” Thank God for the wine.

“In here,” he said with a knowing smirk.

I pretended I didn't see it.

The living room was cozy, occupied by plush couches and a fire place. I didn't wait for him to tell me to make myself at home, just ran in and flopped onto the soft cushions. I heard him laugh from the threshold.

“Well you've got no manners _at all_.”

I sat up for a second to poke my tongue out and then flopped down again.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he chuckled and disappeared somewhere in the house.

Shortly he returned with a couple of glasses of water and a bottle of something to drink.

“Jesus Christ Colbert, I thought _I_ was the alcoholic here.” I jested.

My face fell when I noticed he wasn't smiling. He placed everything on the table in front of us and sat beside me, the shame I saw in him told me everything I needed to know. My stomach clenched with regret, I wrapped my arms around his middle and rested my head on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry.” a solemn whisper.

I felt him kiss the top of my head and snake his arm around my waist. We sat quietly for a while and I realized just how little we knew about each other. Feeling a desire to lighten the mood, I rubbed his chest and straightened up, grabbing my glass of water off the table. After finishing it, I shot him a cheeky glance and made a show of drinking his as well. A smile broke across his lips as he watched my antics.

“No manners.” he muttered amusedly.

I opened the bottle–it was some kind of expensive looking bourbon–and poured us each a small amount, handing one off to him when I was done.

“So you drink too much as well huh?” I remarked with interest, “Explains the tumblers you had in your office.”

He was smirking again, eyeing me with a blatantly lustful look.

“I seem to recall having something _else_ in my office that night as well,” he rumbled.

My body tensed, I stared blankly while the cogs in my head jammed and ground to a halt.

“Oh yeah?” I managed to reply cooly, despite being rattled beyond belief.

His eyes narrowed curiously. I put my drink down, which seemed to prompt him to finish his in one go and place his empty glass on the table as well. He sat back waiting for my next move. I smirked then on all fours, crawled along the couch and over him. He lay down and I straddled his hips, which I felt him push up into me as he held mine, a very pleased expression on his face. I leaned down, grazed his ear with my teeth and breathed into it gently. He shuddered beneath me.

“Pussy,” I whispered, summoning the most seductive tone I could.

I heard him sigh and his dick was rock hard instantly. He pressed his hips into me again and I withdrew to see that he was now blushing, bottom lip between his teeth, sweet brown eyes silently pleading for me.

It didn't take much convincing before we were very enthusiastically peeling the clothes off one another. I liked being on top of him. My head fell back, hips rocking slowly against his, I moaned his name at the sensation of him filling me completely. One hand clasped the back of the couch, the other moved between his chest and stomach, flexing and gripping with each delicious motion. He held my hips, fingers digging deep and hard, it felt so good.

“God, Lana..”

I heard him groan and looked down to see the pure ecstasy on his face. _I was doing that to him_ , a thought which sent a flood of warmth to my pelvis. Ice and fire rolled in waves across my skin and through my body, every touch, and movement, and sound he made pushed me nearer the edge. My rhythm and breathing changed, he knew I was about to come and I could hear him encouraging me, telling me how good I felt, begging to feel me tighten around his cock. I cried out his name and he pulled my hips firmly against his as he thrust then released himself inside me with a rough grunt. Pulsing and warm, he slipped out of me and I collapsed onto him. There we lay, panting, dewed with sweat; exhausted but completely euphoric.

Neither one of us wanted to move, I wasn't sure how long we lay there, but eventually we got up. Showering with him was a slow and pleasant experience as well. Bodies slick with water and soap, hands gliding over glistening skin or clinging desperately at tiles and fogged glass, and a toe-curling orgasm. Then we needed another shower.

Half dressed and back in the living room, my head was still swimming blissfully. Stephen lay on the couch, where he'd been earlier, and I on top of him. His shirt was unbuttoned so my face rested on his bare chest and he wrapped me in his arms. I let my hands roam, fingers dancing over his stomach, then playing with the waist band of his trousers. I lifted my head to steal a kiss from his soft lips, then one more, and one more again.

After a while we began to talk and sat up cross-legged, facing one another. We made a little game of back and forth, each of us asking questions and telling the other something they didn't know about them. It was a brutal, hilarious, devastating, wonderful game. At one point, late into the night or maybe early in the morning, there was a lull in the conversation, and I noticed him watching me in that way again–that inexplicably addictive, overwhelming way. I blushed.

“What is this way you look at me?” I asked with a smile and an air of relaxed curiosity, “I can never read it, I just know I like it.”

He cocked a brow as though taken aback by the question, “Well, that might be the easiest one you've asked all night.”

His face brightened to a grin, he took my hands in his and our foreheads rested together. There was a nervous tick in his breath; I was lost at first, I thought something was wrong. Then those shimmering, inky pools met mine with an odd mix of affection and piercing intent, and it hit me all at once. I suddenly understood _why_ I'd never seen that look before. A quiet gasp escaped my lips even before he spoke.

 

“I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I may have shed a tear. I've been writing this fic for two and a half months, it's been my constant companion and now it's over.


End file.
